


A New Fight

by Tea_For_One_Please



Series: A New Fight [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst, Boys Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, but the love is very real, but they're not super graphic, depictions of violence, it's mostly plot-focused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24677356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_For_One_Please/pseuds/Tea_For_One_Please
Summary: Will Byers, an Imperial cadet disillusioned by the Empire's ruthless tactics, sends a distress call to the Rebel Alliance, surrendering and requesting assistance in escaping.His call is met by Mike Wheeler, a young freedom fighter who became a pilot for the Rebel Alliance. When Will joins their crew, he soon discovers that the galaxy is a lot bigger than he realised.
Relationships: Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Series: A New Fight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827769
Comments: 51
Kudos: 68





	1. I

Red and green light flashed all around, contrasting starkly against the inky blackness of space, peppered with distant stars, lightyears away. The battle was raging only a hundred miles or so above the surface of Mykapo, but for the starfighter pilots, weaving through enough blaster-fire to rip apart an entire continent, it might as well have been the depths of the Unknown Regions.

Without exception, every pilot or passenger who has ever flown has said of their first journey in space that it was unnerving.

Some blame the almost incomparable darkness, where in certain sectors of the galaxy, it’s difficult to discern the cockpit walls from the view through the transparisteel windows. For others, it’s the concept of the unknown – the fear of what’s out there, or what may not be. Some say simply that it makes them feel very, very small.

Most, however, attribute the uneasy feeling to the sheer, unimaginable silence of space. Were they within the atmosphere, the battle raging over Mykapo would have made a frantic cacophony of sound. The hundreds of cannons, the roar of engines and thrusters, the constant, rapid buzzing of blaster-fire – it would have been enough to justify the muffling material fitted in most flight helmets.

In space, though – there’s nothing. It shouldn’t be startling, not really, since any youngling who knows anything about physics knows that sound waves cannot travel through a vacuum. But somehow, one is always shocked by the eerie quiet, compared with the bustle of the planet surface, or even an Imperial star destroyer. Wherever they’ve come from, it’s enough to make any pilot shudder on their first excursion. And shudder Will Byers did, as he tilted his TIE/LN starfighter eight degrees to starboard to avoid another stream of unforgiving blaster bolts.

Of course, in that moment, he was not Will Byers; he wasn’t anyone really. He was SL-322, just one of billions of Imperial troopers who had given their lives in service to the mighty Galactic Empire, that all may be subdued in the course of peace.

That his armour was not white but jet-black, and currently plugged into the life-support systems of his TIE fighter, was irrelevant: he was not special. He was not important. He was but one tiny cog in the colossal machine that was the Empire. In effect, he was more or less expendable, and could be replaced as quickly as his TIE.

He reflected, as he often did in such engagements, upon what would happen if he died today. His mother, back home on the planet below, would receive a brief, impersonal letter, expressing no condolences whatsoever, informing her that her son had died for the glory of the Empire, and fifty credits compensation, if she was lucky.

It was a chilling thought, and one that forced him to focus his attention more closely on the task at hand, as he rolled his fighter to port, lining him up perfectly with an X-wing starfighter that had broken away from the main group. He watched his targeting computer carefully, waiting for it to line up with its target. As its beeps intensified, signalling a successful lock, his thumbs pressed instinctively down on the triggers, releasing a rapid flurry of green bolts into the rear boosters. He watched with mild satisfaction as the craft in front of him started to smoke, before bursting into flames.

“ _Good shot, three-two-two._ ” The approving voice of Wing Commander Brenner in his ear startled him slightly, but he recovered quickly, although sent no reply, as per Imperial protocol.

SL-322 disliked X-wings. They had only recently entered service within the Rebellion, and they were a nuisance, frankly. They had most of the manoeuvrability of the older A-wings, with most of the remarkable durability of a Y-wing bomber. The result was a well-armed craft that could take a lot of damage, while still being frustratingly difficult to actually hit.

“ _There’s one on your tail, three-two-two._ ” The level voice of SL-167 (known to Will as his friend Jara Flax, in the rare moments when they were off-duty) came through his receiver. SL-322 frowned and checked his scanner – she was right. He pulled back his throttle, hard, completing a smooth loop which positioned him perfectly behind the offending A-wing, before plugging its rear engines with plasma and reducing it to ashes.

“Thanks, one-six-seven,” he said. “I owe you one.” Her reply was cut off by Admiral Versio’s clipped voice in his ear.

“ _All craft,_ ” he said sharply. “ _The cruiser’s shields have failed. Take it down._ ”

“Copy that, Admiral.” Every Imperial starfighter changed course almost simultaneously, and a torrent of bright green plasma rained down on the Mon Calamari cruiser, practically shredding it. For one brief moment, Will felt a stab of guilt as he watched the ship burn, but he quickly shook his head. Compassion is weakness, he told himself, and then he was SL-322 again. They had it coming.

Didn’t they?

At the sight of the remains of the Rebel cruiser drifting slowly towards Mykapo, the surviving Rebel starfighters jumped hastily to hyperspace and disappeared. SL-322 waited for the all-clear, then turned his fighter towards the planet, preparing to return to the Academy. He’d just entered the upper atmosphere when his communicator beeped at him again, and he heard Wing Commander Brenner’s dulcet tones in his ear.

“ _Three-two-two, one-six-seven, three-seven-eight – do not return to the Academy immediately,_ ” he said, sounding stern. “ _Admiral Versio has requested your presence onboard his Star Destroyer._ ” The line went blank, and Jara sighed through the intercom.

“ _I wonder what we’ve done wrong this time._ ”

Their helmets tucked firmly under their left arms, the three young pilots stepped onto the bridge, saluting as the admiral turned and, shockingly, smiled at them. “At ease. Congratulations, cadets,” he said. “The statistics show that you three were the leading pilots of your squadron out there today.” SL-322 straightened up, feeling a little pleased. “Follow me,” the admiral went on, beckoning to them as the blast doors opened to him. “We caught a Rebel ship in the tractor beam,” he explained as they fell in step behind him. “He is to be interrogated, and for your success, you are to bear witness.”  
It occurred to SL-322 that it was an odd sort of reward, but at least it was a reward and not a rebuke, like they had expected.

“What information are you after, Admiral?” the third of them asked. SL-378, or Parhale, had always been an inquisitive know-it-all. It annoyed everyone, but not as much as the fact that he was actually an exceptionally good pilot.

“Ideally, the location of their base,” Versio replied, “but really, anything he’s… _willing_ to tell us.” The door to the prison cell opened with a sharp _swish_ to reveal a pilot sitting on the hard durasteel bench at the rear of the chamber, staring defiantly at them. “Has he talked?” he asked quietly, and the stormtrooper guard shook his head.

“Not a word, sir.”

“We’ll see about that.” He took the holoscreen from the trooper and scanned it briefly, before attacking the pilot. “Captain… Ranndall, is it?” The pilot said nothing. “Do you know what this is?” Versio continued, gesturing to the large interrogation chair to his right, which took up half the cell. The constant hum of its electroprods was enough to set anyone’s teeth on edge. Except this pilot, apparently, who remained stubbornly silent. Admiral Versio hummed and gestured to SL-167 and SL-378. “Get him up.” They obeyed, and forced the pilot to his feet, dragging him forcefully across the chamber until he stood toe-to-toe with the admiral.

Admiral Versio looked down at him from his impressive height, with a similar expression as one might if one had trodden in some dewback dung. Ranndall glared at Versio, and promptly spat in his face. He stumbled back in shock, and the two cadets holding Ranndall shoved him to his knees. Versio wiped his face in disgust and turned his livid gaze on SL-322. “Kill him,” he said, his voice soft and dangerous, and time seemed to stand still.

“Kill him, sir?” SL-322 said, stalling for time.

“Yes, three-two-two. Immediately.”

“But he has a right to a trial!”

“I told you to execute him. Are you questioning your orders, cadet?” the admiral asked threateningly. SL-322 looked down at Captain Ranndall, whose face had lost all bravado. Will Byers stood there, his hand on his blaster, and suddenly realised that he was staring into the face of a frightened man who had given his life to a cause.

Much like he once had. Except Will couldn’t deny that this man cared a good deal more about his cause than Will did.

And yet, of the two of them, this man was the one who was about to die.

“Ess-Ell-three-two-two, this is your final warning,” Admiral Versio said in a low voice. Without another thought, Will pulled out his blaster pistol. He fired one shot. There was a single flash of red light, and the Rebel captain slumped to the ground. “Come along,” the admiral said sharply, and Will’s colleagues followed him out. His SE-14C blaster pistol, once so familiar to him, fell to the floor with a clatter, as though it disgusted him.

Which, if he was honest, it rather did.

“Come along, cadet.” The admiral’s sharp voice broke Will out of his reverie. He looked down at Captain Ranndall’s body, lying twisted and lifeless at his feet, and he had a sudden urge to vomit. “Ess-ell-three-two-two, that’s an order!”

“Yes, sir,” Will called automatically. In truth, the number by which he had been identified for the last seven years no longer meant anything to him. They were the call sign of a different young man – one who abided cold-blooded murder unquestioningly.

No more.

He left his blaster on the floor where it had fallen.

Mykapo’s clouds refracted the rays of the setting sun, scattering the golden light through the floating fortress that was the system’s Imperial Academy. It had been the home and training centre for the Empire’s young cadets, from their initiation until graduation. Will was now only a year from graduation, but he had resolved to never see that day. He was getting out, if it was the last thing he ever did.

Attempting to look as nonchalant as possible, he made his way to the communications centre, clutching Parhale’s identification card tightly. He had swiped it from him earlier, when he had been smugly telling the other cadets about their summons to Admiral Versio’s star destroyer. Will pressed the card to the reader, praying to anyone who was listening that there wouldn’t be anyone inside. The doors slid smoothly apart, and Will stepped into the room. It was almost suspiciously quiet. Will was thankful, in this moment, that he didn’t believe in omens.

He was feeling strange, and more than a little queasy. It was as though his eyes had been opened: it had never occurred to him that the Empire might be wrong. He had always been taught that everything they did, they did in the name of peace and justice.

But that morning, Will had been forced to execute a prisoner of war, without a trial, simply for spitting at an officer. That was not peaceful. That was not justice. How could it be either? And they had always been told that the interrogation chairs were used only on the most dangerous criminals, but Admiral Versio had planned on using it on a mere Rebel officer.

Standing in front of the long-range transmitter, he ran his eyes over the controls, pursing his lips with concentration. He _had_ to get this right. He might be using a stolen identity, but he didn’t actually want Parhale to get in trouble. And he certainly didn’t want to get in trouble himself.

He pressed a few buttons, scrambling the controls so that the transmission wouldn’t remain on the record, then waited for the red light to show that it was recording. He took a deep breath: there was no turning back now.

“This is Will Byers of the Imperial Academy, otherwise known as Ess-Ell-three-two-two, calling any Rebel Alliance ships that can hear me. I surrender.”

* * *

“This is Jet One to Jet Five,” Mike hissed into his communicator. “What’s your status?” This was taking too long: it was just a fuel raid, they should have been in and out of the refinery by now.

“ _Same as two minutes ago, Jet One,_ ” came Max’s irritable voice into his receiver, and he could just picture her sarcastic smile accompanying her words. “ _We’re waiting for an opening._ ” Mike pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut tightly. He knew he should have gone with El, but Max swore blind she could get them in and out without detection. What Mike couldn’t quite fathom was why he was planting dozens of remotely-activated detonators around the facility, if they were planning to go unnoticed.

He sighed, and reminded himself that El was heading up this mission: she was older, cleverer, and on top of that, more competent than any of them put together. The thought comforted him, and he opened their communication channel once more. “Copy that, Jet Five. Good luck out there.”

“ _This is Jet Three._ ” Lucas’ voice sounded urgently across the receiver. “ _I count two shock troopers approaching your position from behind, about fifty feet away. Shall I fire?_ ”

“ _Negative, Jet Three._ ” El’s voice was as calm and resolute as ever, despite the very real threat: one Imperial shock trooper was no joke, let alone two. “ _Only if they get too close._ ”

“ _How close is ‘too close’?_ ” Lucas asked doubtfully.

“ _You’ll know,_ ” she said simply, and even from a quarter of a mile away, Mike could practically hear Lucas rolling his eyes.

Mike scanned the hallway as he placed a detonite charge on the power overload panel. El had been very specific about this particular charge. He carefully turned the activation dial, and lifted his wrist-comm to his lips. “This is Jet One. All charges in place.”

“ _Copy that, Jet One. Get out of there and detonate._ ”

Mike walked quickly between shadowed corners, waiting for small stormtrooper patrols to go past, before seizing his moments and making a dash for it. Once or twice, a trooper got too close to his hiding places, so he rammed his handheld electroprod into the base of their necks, in the gap between the rim of the helmet and the top of the chestplate, watching with a grim smile as they slumped gently to the floor. Far from lethal, but it would leave them with quite the headache when they woke up in a few hours’ time.

Presently he reached the landing pad and crouched down behind some crates, out of view of the roaming guards.

“Jet Two, I’m in position.”

“ _Do it,_ ” El said quietly, and Mike pressed the trigger he’d been carrying in his pocket. The ground shook as the charges detonated, and two passing stormtroopers stopped in their tracks.

“What was that?” one asked.

“Probably another drill,” the other shrugged. “Not worth abandoning our post over.” _Oh, if you only knew_ , Mike thought smugly as they continued their patrol. Presently klaxons started to sound across the loudspeaker systems, and previously-unconcerned troopers started running from their posts in the direction of the noise and, Mike noticed with satisfaction, the smoke.

“ _This is Jet Two,_ ” El said. “ _Our path is clear, we’re going in._ ”

“ _Copy that,_ ” Dustin called. “ _Ebony Hawk is inbound for pickup. Jet One, Jet Three, make sure you’re ready when the cargo’s loaded or we’ll go without you._ ”

 _Yeah, right._ Mike bounced on the heels of his feet behind the crates, silently urging the others to return promptly. Presently he heard Max’s voice over the intercom.

“ _Uh, we could use a little help?_ ”

“I’m on my way,” Mike said, immediately springing up and starting to run down the corridor, pulling one of his blasters from a holster on his belt. He turned a lone trooper call out to him; he wasn’t planning on bothering with him, until he heard the all-too-familiar click of a blaster being primed, so he whirled round, still jogging, and fired a stun shot, neatly dispatching the trooper. Remembering Lucas’ warning about shock troopers, he switched his blaster out of stun mode, as it wouldn’t suffice against their reinforced armour.

He found El and Max at the end of a long corridor, facing off against the two shock troopers, their red-and-white armour making them conveniently striking against the dull grey walls of the facility hallways. He closed one eye to focus his vision, and fired. His shot hit the trooper in the back of the knee, perfectly between her leg plates. The trooper let out a yell of pain and sank to one knee, her heavy blaster peppering the floor with blaster bolts. Max kicked her squarely in the chest, and smacked her with her truncheon with enough force to crack the helmet, knocking her out cold. Mike couldn’t help but be impressed.

El, for her part, had already dealt with the one shooting at her: as was her way, she had been less merciful, and the second trooper was currently lying in front of her, with one hole in his chest and another in his head. Mike briefly reflected that she was nothing if not thorough.

“We got it covered,” she said shortly, and Mike nodded admiringly.

“With a little help from me,” he replied, unable to resist. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”

He led them down the corridor, pushing their precious cargo and blasting any stormtroopers careless enough to come across them, until they finally reached the blast doors that opened out onto the landing pad – which were rapidly closing. As the group approached, however, the doors seemed to jam, allowing them just enough time to sprint through before sliding shut, cutting off the small squadron of stormtroopers pursuing them.

Dust started to swirl up around them as the low rumble of a spacecraft’s engines drew gradually closer, and they shielded their eyes with their hands, squinting up into the sky as the _Ebony Hawk_ came into view. Mike winced as Dustin brought the trusty ship to rest on the asphalt, a little less gently than he or El would have done. Nonetheless, it was down, and the boarding ramp was lowering. There was no time for critique.

“Chester!” he called, and a green and cream astromech rolled sulkily into view. “Help us with these crates, the antigravs are failing.” C1-13S, affectionately known as Chester to the crew, let out a series of his clunky, low warbles, and Mike had a vague suspicion that Chester was telling him precisely where he could put his fuel crates. Nevertheless, he shot out his tow-cable and hauled one of the crates safely into the cargo hold, as Mike, El and Max followed suit. El ducked suddenly, and a stray blaster bolt scorched into the hull, almost exactly where her head had been. Clearly the blast doors were open again.

“Mike, put the ramp up!” Max said desperately, as she and Mike threw themselves to the ground.

“But what about Lucas?” he countered, peering around one of the crates to return fire.

“He’ll have to take care of himself,” Dustin called through the intercom. “If those stormtroopers hit the fuel crates, the whole ship’ll go up. We’re lifting off.” Sure enough, with a lurch, they felt the ship rise into the air.

They were only six feet off the ground when the _Ebony Hawk_ suddenly swayed, knocked off-balance in the shock wave of a powerful explosion nearby. They turned to look through the narrowing boarding hatch, to see the landing pad smoking, with half a dozen stormtroopers lying in pieces across the asphalt.

A yell of “Incoming!” preceded a lone figure sliding through the gap in the boarding hatch mere seconds before it closed, before landing gracelessly on the floor, wisps of smoke still curling from the thrusters of his jetpack. Lucas groaned and pulled off his helmet. “Not my best re-entry,” he muttered, and Max folded her arms.

“I’ll say. I’ve seen mykals land better than that with one wing missing.”

“When have you seen mykals?” Mike said with a withering look, holding out a hand to help Lucas to his feet. “No one can get on Kashyyyk these days.”

“It’s a figure of speech, slamo,” she shot back, and El held up a hand.

“Stop it, you two,” she said sternly. “We’re not out of this yet.” She tucked her blaster pistol firmly back into its holster and started her ascent up the ladder to the main deck. Mike scowled at Max before following her up.

El slid into the co-pilot’s chair, and Dustin rose to allow Mike to take his place, as El guided them effortlessly into the upper atmosphere.

“Uh, that’s a star destroyer.” Lucas’ voice was level, but higher-pitched than usual, betraying his nerves.

“It’s not a problem,” Mike said, nodding at El. They reached to the centre console and simultaneously pushed two levers forward. The stars around them seemed to lengthen as the _Ebony Hawk_ increased speed, before the universe around them became a vortex of dust and light as they reached lightspeed. Mike spun his chair round and swung his feet up onto the rear console, a cocky smile on his face. “Nailed it.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Dustin said with a derisive chuckle. “What happened to ‘in and out undetected’?”

“There were complications,” El shrugged. “It happens.”

“Yeah, it happens to us,” Lucas said drily. “Constantly.”

“Oh, come on,” Mike said carelessly. “There’s no such thing as a perfect Rebel operation.”

“I feel like that sounded better in your head,” replied Max. At this point Chester interrupted them with a low-pitched whistle, and Dustin frowned.

“Commander Hopper’s sending us a transmission. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

“He probably heard about the fiasco,” Lucas said, as Dustin connected the broadcast channel.

“Hey, Commander,” Mike said, trying his hardest to sound casual. “Before you say anything, it wasn’t out fault.”

His eyes narrowed, and his moustache bristled. “What _wasn’t your fault?_ ” Everyone – including Chester, it seemed – glared at Mike.

“Nothing,” he replied innocently. “What news?”

“ _We’ve received an unusual transmission,_ ” he replied, still eyeing Mike suspiciously. “ _It seems like your area of expertise, for want of a better word._ ”

“Okay, put it through.”

Hopper shook his head. “ _If it’s legitimate, it’s too risky to put across even this channel. We need you to return to base._ ”

“Copy that, commander,” El said, tapping co-ordinates into her holomap. “We’ll be there soon.” Mike offered him a half-serious salute before the transmission blinked into nothingness. He looked around the cockpit at his bemused crewmates, and voiced what they were all wondering.

“What kind of transmission could have put him so on edge?”

As the _Ebony Hawk_ began its descent onto Dantooine, the sun was creeping up over the horizon. The first rays of daylight hit the colossal blba trees, casting long shadows over the base established by the Rebel Alliance. The waning moons were still visible in the morning twilit sky, and Mike felt a familiar comfort as he gazed at them.

They had been away for some time, conducting reconnaissance missions, interspersed with petty theft from various Imperial facilities for good measure. In fairness, they typically only stole supplies they required for themselves or for the Rebellion – the _Ebony Hawk_ had been dangerously low on fuel before their recent raid – but that didn’t stop them from enjoying such missions all the same.

Now, though, as he and El brought the _Ebony Hawk_ to a gentle touchdown on one of the base’s landing pads, Mike couldn’t help feeling that he had come home.

The five young Rebels, followed by Chester, were greeted by Commander Hopper upon their exit from the ship, and they all hastily saluted.

“At ease,” he said gruffly, before turning and indicating that they should follow.

“You said this transmission was unusual, sir?” Mike prompted after a few moments’ silence.

“Indeed,” Hopper said as he led them into the underground bunker that housed their communications centre. “It’s a distress call, of sorts. But the sender doesn’t seem to be in any serious danger.”

“Then why are we acknowledging it at all?” Lucas piped up, and Hopper looked gravely at him.

“You’ll see.”

They gathered around the holoscreen; Hopper pressed a button and the grainy image of a young man, of roughly their own age, faded into view. His exact features were difficult to discern, thanks to the crudity of current holographic technology, but Mike could make out a head of trimmed chestnut hair, and wide, dark eyes. It was hard to tell, but he seemed to Mike to be rather cute. What was unmistakeable, though, was the pitch-black uniform and logo of an Imperial pilot.

“ _This is Will Byers of the Imperial Academy, otherwise known as Ess-Ell-three-two-two, calling any Rebel Alliance ships that can hear me. I surrender._ ” The whole group blinked in surprise. “ _I have recently seen the Empire for what it is, and have come to realise that the Empire does not work for peace and justice, as it proclaims and teaches, but is instead a force for destruction, using fear to force the galaxy into submission._ ” Mike nodded approvingly. The more Imperial personnel that realised this, the better. “ _However,_ ” the pilot continued, “ _any attempt to leave the Empire’s service is effectively a suicide attempt, without a destination and a guarantee of asylum. To this effect, I declare my intent to join your Alliance, and humbly request an extraction from my facility on Mykapo. Alternatively, failing that, I would ask for a co-ordinates for a rendezvous, to ensure safe passage out of the Mykapo system. I will adapt this broadcast system, so that it will forward any reply to my personal communicator. This will ensure that the Empire does not intercept either transmission. Thank you._ ”

Silence fell as the image faded, and Hopper folded his arms. “Thoughts?”

“With respect, Commander, I don’t buy it,” Lucas said firmly. “Requesting a rendezvous? Who’s to say we won’t be met by a squadron of death troopers?”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Hopper said. “It all seems a little… I don’t know, staged.”

“It seems legitimate enough to me,” Mike said. “He wouldn’t be the first Imperial soldier to come to his senses.”

“Surprisingly, I'm with Mike,” Max said. “I’d be very willing to lead the campaign to extract him.”

“Out of the question,” Hopper said immediately.

“Sir, I’m perfectly capable!” she protested.

“I don’t question your ability, Private Mayfield, but this extraction cannot take place, nor can the rendezvous.”

“It does seem genuine,” El piped up, but her input fell mostly on deaf ears.

“Then why did you call us back here?” Mike asked Hopper crossly. He wanted to help, but if Hopper didn’t want them to, what was the point in showing them?

“I needed Private Henderson’s experience in falsified transmissions, to be honest,” Hopper shrugged.

“What, you don’t have a single technician in this whole base who can tell a fraudulent transmission?” Mike said sceptically. “Look, if this mission is to be _off the record_ , then just say so!”

“This mission is not to take place,” Hopper said firmly. “At least not until we’re one hundred percent sure it’s not a setup. That’s an order, Captain Wheeler.”

“Send no reply,” Dustin piped up. “If you’ll give me a datafile with the transmission on it, I’ll examine it for fraud.”

“I appreciate it,” Hopper said, nodding approvingly at Dustin, but glaring at Mike. He pressed a few keys and handed Dustin a thin piece of metal, containing the transmission and its details. “As quickly as you can, please. And don’t let him near it,” he added, pointing accusingly at Mike.

“Yes, sir,” Dustin said, and they all saluted as Hopper dismissed them and wandered away.

Mike scowled at Dustin. “Since when are you such a kiss-ass?”

Dustin shot him a withering look, and tossed him the datafile. “Don’t insult me. Now let’s go find this son of a bitch and break him out.”


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Defying direct orders, a member of Mike's team infiltrates the Imperial Academy on Mykapo.

A gentle drizzle fell upon the long line of Imperial personnel, dripping from their helmets and trickling down their armour. If it frustrated them, they did not complain aloud. Even the officers, whose armourweave hats and uniforms did little to repel the rain, showed no outward signs of chagrin. No, they were far too well-trained for that.

There was one officer among them, however, whose lips tightened minutely enough that, under closer scrutiny, might have given her away. Max sniffed, shaking her head slightly to evict a water droplet from her nose.

She was vaguely regretting volunteering to go undercover: the bun into which she had forced her hair was far too tight, and the officer’s uniform she was wearing was not especially comfortable. Imperial uniforms were not designed to be so at the best of times, and she was an inch or two taller than El, who had last worn it. She was just desperately hoping that the identification capsule Dustin had given her was good for something, or this rescue mission would end a lot more quickly than expected.

Max took a few steps forward as the line advanced, and passed the capsule confidently to the officer holding out his hand to her. He held it down to the astromech droid by his side, who scanned it with an affirming bleep. He wordlessly gestured behind himself, indicating that she should board the transport. She nodded once – Lucas had given explicit instructions not to be friendly – and walked up the boarding ramp onto the shuttle.

The ride up to the Imperial Academy seemed to last forever. Max was focusing all her energy on keeping her breathing steady, since she could feel her heart pounding in her chest and couldn’t risk giving herself away. For all her skills, she had never posed as an Imperial before, especially not in such a high-risk environment, where the nature of the facility was that its occupants were under almost constant observation.

So absorbed was she, that Max didn’t even notice when the shuttle came to rest in the Academy’s hangar. She hastily stood up as stormtroopers started filing past her, and marched with purpose towards a blast door. In truth, she had very little idea where she was going, but she was hoping that if she walked with intent for long enough, she would find a computer terminal with a map. It was at moments like these that she missed Chester, but C1-series astromechs were practically defunct by then, and it would have been difficult to pass him off as an Imperial droid.

As it turned out, luck was on her side, and she found such a terminal within fifteen minutes. Experience had taught her that if you do something with absolute conviction that it is acceptable, no one will question it. When surrounded by Imperial personnel who are taught rigorously not to rock the boat or ask questions, this is even more true. With this in mind, Max walked confidently to a vacant holoscreen, sat down and plugged in her identification capsule. Exactly as planned, no one paid her any attention.

Biting back the urge to think aloud, she scanned the map for the cadets’ quarters; she figured if she was going to find this pilot anywhere, that would be the place to start. She scoured the holomap for some time, searching floor after floor, before she finally found her target, on the station’s third level.

When she reached the cadets’ quarters, Max hesitated only a moment before registering her identification, unsure if personnel had access if they were not cadets. To her relief, the doors slid open to grant her entrance, and she stepped inside. Several cadets sat around on large sofas, presumably off-duty, as they were laughing and chatting with each other, but the cheery atmosphere died as each of them in turn noticed her stony features.  
“Lieutenant?” one of them asked, standing to attention. “Is there something we can do for you?”

So, this was a lieutenant’s uniform. Max made a mental note to inform the crew of the _Ebony Hawk_ of this detail.

“I’m looking for Ess-Ell-three-two-two,” she said coldly. “Is he here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said a quiet voice, and Max turned her head slightly to see a young man stand up somewhat nervously. She quickly took in his build, haircut and features, comparing it with her mental image of the pilot from the transmission. Yes, it was believably him.

“Come with me,” she ordered. “Immediately.” She saw him swallow hard and felt guilty, but internally shook it off. She knew he was probably terrified that his secret broadcast had been discovered, but it couldn’t be helped. The façade had to be convincing or they wouldn’t be able to pull it off. She’d ease his nerves as soon as it was safe to do so. Without waiting to see if he was following, she turned on her heel and walked out.

She heard him jog a few paces to catch up. “Uh, lieutenant? May I ask what this is about?”

Max continued walking and didn’t look at him, but lowered her voice. “Keep walking. Keep your expression neutral. Act normal. I’m from the Alliance, and I’m here to get you out.” She heard him release a shaky breath and hissed, “I said, act _normal!_ ”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, his voice more steady. “But it’s been days, I didn’t realise anyone had got my message, and when you asked for me I thought – ”

“Rein it in, trooper,” she said sternly as another officer passed them, nodding respectfully at Max.

“Sorry,” he whispered once they were out of earshot again. “I’m Will.”

“Obviously I know who you are, blurrg-brain,” she said drily. “My name’s Max Mayfield. Which way to the starfighter hangar?”

“Take a right here. Why?”

“We’re stealing a fighter.”

“You don’t have a ship?”

“Are you serious?” she muttered. “How do you imagine I’d have landed an unregistered transport here?”

“I don’t know,” he hissed, his voice growing more shrill. “I thought maybe you’d landed on the roof or something. Take a left here.” She followed his directions, and soon they found themselves on a narrow footbridge which ran parallel to a long line of various classes of starfighters.

“Seal those doors,” Max said as they slid shut behind them, tossing him her identification capsule. He inserted it into the control terminal, and the blast doors hissed as they sealed firmly shut. “Good.” She caught the capsule as he threw it back to her, then started walking along the bridge, scrutinising the assembled starfighters. “Too slow… too weak… out of fuel… this one’ll do,” she said finally, patting a TIE/LN fighter’s vertical wing.

Will looked dubious. “That one’s faster,” he said, pointing to the interceptor adjacent to it. “And its guns are more powerful.”

“We don’t need firepower,” Max said. “We’re not expecting to shoot anyone today, but I’m pretty sure someone’s going to be shooting at us, so we need something a bit sturdier.”

“That’s comforting,” Will muttered, but he clambered up and opened the entrance hatch nonetheless.

“I’m really hoping you can fly this thing,” Max said as she dropped down into the cockpit alongside him. It was a bit of a squeeze, but easier than trying to get a passenger into an A-wing.

Will snorted. “In my sleep.” He fired up the booster engines, and almost immediately there was a bridge officer berating them through the receiver.

“ _Fighter one-zero-gamma-two-seven, you are not scheduled for departure._ ” Max gestured desperately at the communicator, and Will hastily sent a return transmission.

“Uh, negative, control. I’m running reconnaissance on the underground insurgent cell on the planet’s surface.”

“ _I repeat, this departure is not scheduled. Return to your dock at once._ ”

“It’s an emergency protocol, control,” Will said, improvising wildly as he deftly steered the craft out of its socket and exited the hangar.

“ _What emergency protocol? Who authorised this?_ ”

“Oh, screw this,” Will muttered, dropping the communicator to the floor of the cockpit and stamping on it with the heel of his boot. “They’re going to shoot at us anyway, we might as well get a head-start.” He thrust the throttle forward, causing Max to lose her balance from the improbably powerful acceleration. The roar of the repulsors drowned out her expletive, but Will got the gist and grinned. “Yeah, they might not be as durable as your ships,” he said, “but they sure can move.” He swerved suddenly, as two massive green blaster bolts shot past them.

Max let out a low whistle. “That was a bit close.”

“That’ll be the Academy’s surface cannons. They’re powerful, but we should be out of range before too long. That’s when they’ll scramble fighters.”

“Oh, something to look forward to, then.”

“Please tell me you have a ship on the surface that can achieve lightspeed,” Will said, “or this is going to go down in history as the worst rescue attempt of all time.”

“Thank you for that,” Max said shortly, “and yes, we do. I’ll put the co-ordinates in.”

She leaned over the controls and tapped a few holoscreens, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that they were already going in the right direction. She briefly wondered if this was suspicious, but the fact that other TIE fighters were appearing on the scanner suggested that it probably wasn’t a setup. The thought did not comfort her greatly. _Especially_ , she thought, as Will swerved to avoid a steady stream of blaster-fire, _since they seem to genuinely want to kill us._

“Does this thing have comms?” Max asked. Will spared a sheepish look at the broken communicator on the floor. “Oh, perfect.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she pulled off her armourweave hat and threw it to the floor in frustration.

“Sorry. Don’t you have your own commlink, though?”

“Well, yeah, but its range isn’t good enough to contact the _Ebony Hawk_ from here!”

“Well, how close do you need to be?”

Max was about to answer when the surrounding clouds started to clear, and a small city came into view some way beneath them. “Uh, this’ll do. Land at that spaceport.” She pointed out of the cockpit window, before rolling up her sleeve and pressing a button on the communicator concealed underneath. “This is Jet Five to _Ebony Hawk_ , we are inbound in a stolen TIE fighter. Be ready.”

“ _Copy that, Jet Five._ ” Mike’s voice was a relief to hear, which made a welcome change.

“ _Max,_ ” El said, and Max noticed that she had dropped her call sign, which most likely meant she was concerned. “ _You have multiple incoming – there’s at least five other TIEs following you._ ”

“Karabast,” she muttered. “Copy that, Jet Two. Just get the _Hawk_ ready to go, okay?”

* * *

Mykapo was warmer than Mike had expected, and as he sat at the boarding ramp, staring up at the sky, he shrugged off his blue vest. He felt a little foolish in just his yellow flight suit, but no one was around to judge him. Barely had the thought crossed his mind when he heard footsteps behind him, and Dustin appeared at his side.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked.

“Sure,” Mike shrugged, and Dustin eased himself down next to Mike.

“You okay?” he asked. “You’ve been quiet, and that’s not like you.” Mike nudged him gently with his shoulder and chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just…” He bit his lip, thinking. “Something about this feels significant.”

“Significant?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe I’m overthinking.”

“I mean, we’ve never rescued an Imperial defector before,” Dustin said. “And our methods might be unconventional, but we don’t normally defy direct orders. Maybe that’s what’s making you uneasy.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

They heard a loud clang from above, and Dustin let out a tut. “That’ll be Chester, I should go sort him out.”

“Probably,” Mike smiled.

“It’ll be okay,” Dustin added. “You know that, right?” Mike hummed, and Dustin ruffled his hair.

“Get off,” Mike chuckled, feeling a little more normal as he lightly shoved him, and Dustin laughed as he stood up. Mike looked back up into the sky, overcast with grey clouds, and his laughter quickly faded: half a dozen TIE fighters were emerging from the clouds – and a transport shuttle. Almost immediately his commlink chirped, and Max’s voice came through the speaker.

“ _This is Jet Five to Ebony Hawk, we are inbound in a stolen TIE fighter. Be ready._ ”

“Copy that, Jet Five.” He jumped to his feet and pulled both blasters from his belt, kneeling behind an empty cargo crate. “El, if there are TIEs, we can probably expect troopers.” There was no reply, but a few moments later, he heard footsteps at the hatch above. He turned to look, as she dropped down, landing alongside him, not having bothered with the ladder.

“I’m here to back you up,” she said, pulling out her own blaster and crouching behind another crate.

“What, you don’t trust me?” he teased, and she raised an eyebrow and offered him one of her rare smiles.

“Not in the least,” she replied. “But that’s another matter entirely. Heads up.” He peered over the crate to see Max running across the landing pad, still in her officer’s uniform, accompanied by the young man from the distress call they’d received. El tossed Max her blaster as they made the final sprint up the boarding ramp, and Mike suddenly found himself nose-to-nose with a rather pretty Imperial pilot.

“Hi,” he said, suddenly a little breathless.

“Uh, Mike?” El said urgently, shaking Mike out of his reverie. He turned to look, and saw dozens of stormtroopers and TIE pilots swarming through the doors onto the landing pad.

“Dustin, get us out of here!” he yelled, as both sides opened fire.

“ _They’ve shot out the door controls!_ ” The desperation in Lucas’ voice was clear, even through the speaker of Mike’s commlink.

“Can you fix it?” Max called back.

“ _Chester’s working on it!_ ”

“Dustin, can you _please_ step on it!” Mike shouted again, before turning to the young pilot, still crouching behind him. “Are you planning on chipping in at all?”

“I, uh, don’t have a blaster.”

Mike looked at him in disbelief. “What kind of stormtrooper doesn’t have a blaster?”

“I got rid of it! You know, to make a point!” he protested, and Mike’s incredulous stare intensified.

A blaster bolt scorched the metal wall above them, and Mike leaned up. With one shot from each of his blasters, he took out the nearest trooper, then turned back to the pilot. “Here, take this,” he said with a tut, passing him one of his own. “Don’t lose it,” he warned. “They come as a set.”

“Don’t worry.” The pilot smiled wryly. “I’m not planning on going anywhere with it.”

He peered over the top of the crate and fired one shot into the closest plastoid helmet. Blaster-fire whizzed past their ears, the stormtroopers’ shots never quite hitting their marks, until the _Ebony Hawk_ gave a sudden hum, and Mike slammed his hand down onto the ramp controls. The ramp lifted, a little faster than usual, Mike thought, and the ship rose into the sky.

With the danger behind them, Mike and his new ally collapsed back against the wall of the cargo hold, and shared a shaky laugh.

“As promised.” Will handed Mike his second blaster back, and Mike smiled at him, before pushing his hand gently away.

“Thanks, but you should probably hang onto it until we can find you one of your own.” Will nodded gratefully, still looking at Mike, who suddenly realised he hadn’t introduced himself. “I’m Mike, by the way.”

“Will.” Mike didn’t see the need to point out that he already knew this.

“And that’s El,” Mike went on, “and you know Max, of course. Lucas and Dustin are in the cockpit. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” He grabbed Will’s hand and pulled him up, failing to notice the knowing look that passed between El and Max as he led Will up the ladder.

“…I told you to check the external shields when we landed, but you were like, ‘no, Lucas, it’ll be fine!’ But look what happened – you didn’t listen to me, again, and we wound up in mynock shit again!”

“I did listen! I told Chester to check the external shields, and he told me they were fine.”

“Oh, that’s right, blame the droid. Because nothing that goes wrong around here is ever your fault, is it, Dustin?”

“Guys,” Mike interrupted loudly. “Could you cool it, for a moment?” Lucas took off his helmet so he could scowl at Dustin, but neither said any more. “Here’s our, uh, cargo,” he added, stepping aside and gesturing to Will.

“Nice to meet you,” Dustin said with an easy smile. “I hope you realise that we’re basically putting our jobs on the line to be here.”

“Dustin,” Mike said through gritted teeth, and Dustin raised his hands in surrender.

“I didn’t realise that,” Will said delicately. “I’m sorry to have put you out.”

“It was no bother,” Lucas said, and Will’s gaze fell to his helmet.

“You’re a Mandalorian.” Will’s eyes widened in surprise, and Lucas’ expression turned sour.

“I was,” he said grimly, “until the Empire put a traitor in charge, and all but enslaved my people.” Will felt another stab of guilt, and started to stutter out an apology, but Lucas cut him off. “Don’t worry,” he said, although his tone didn’t seem all that forgiving. “It wasn’t your fault specifically. Besides, I was lucky; I got away.”

Mike tactfully steered Will out of the cockpit, slinging a reassuring arm over Will’s shoulder. “Don’t let Lucas intimidate you.” He pressed a button in the wall and a door slid open, revealing a small cabin with a couple of beds. The lower of the two was clearly unoccupied, but a blanket draped down from the top bunk. “Whoops,” Mike said, hastily folding it upwards. He sat down on the bottom bunk and patted the mattress next to him.

Will obediently sat down and sighed. “Is this what it’s going to be like, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… am I going to be constantly reminded of what I’ve left behind?” He looked so despondent that Mike wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“I mean, yeah, probably,” he said eventually, and he could tell from Will’s expression that this was not the answer he’d wanted. “But I think that’s true for all of us, whether we worked for the Empire or not.” Will nodded slowly, considering this. “I mean, look at Lucas. He left Mandalore, but he kept his armour. Don’t you think that’s a constant reminder to him of what he’s left behind?”

“But that’s different,” Will protested. “I’m about to be faced by people whose friends I’ve probably killed. Less than a week ago my squadron and I destroyed a Rebel cruiser and almost all its starfighters. How can I face these people?”

“I… don’t know,” said Mike after a moment’s thought. “But I suppose we all have to live with our choices, and find ways to forgive ourselves.” He placed a hand on Will’s knee for a moment, then stood up and said, “I’ll go find you something else to wear, and we’ll get you some bedding. You must be tired.”

He exhaled deeply as the door closed behind him, and El, passing through the corridor, caught his eye.

“You okay?”

“He’s pretty torn up,” Mike admitted. “I think civilian life is going to be a difficult transition for him.” He saw her lips tighten. “I know you think people can’t change – ”

“I don’t think that,” she said indignantly. “I was just always taught that there’s no such thing as a second chance.”

“If that’s true, what hope is there for any of us?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” El shook her head. “Sure, he gets a second chance, but what about the Rebel pilots he’s killed? The lives he’s responsible for? They don’t get one.”

“Oh yeah?” Mike could feel himself getting annoyed. “Where does that leave us? We kill as well, all the damn time. Why is it different for him, because he worked for the Empire?” He stormed past her into Lucas and Dustin’s cabin and started rifling through their cupboards. Despite his anger, El remained perfectly tranquil, and it forced him to calm down.

“We all do our best,” she said, leaning against the doorway and folding her arms. “Take the other day at the fuel refinery – you had every opportunity to kill that shock trooper, but you didn’t. You shot her in the leg, allowing Max to knock her out.”

“While you killed the other one.”

“We make judgement calls, Mike,” she said, sounding weary. “What’s strategy one?”

“Survive,” he muttered, as he pulled out a few items.

“Exactly. In that moment, I knew that if I didn’t kill him, he would kill me.” It was a sobering thought. “Of course I regret it, I always do. I’m sure you do, too. But we make the call in the moment whether we’re going to live or die, Mike. We have to.”

He nodded, knowing El was right. She usually was. “I’d better take these to Will,” he mumbled, gesturing to the clothes he was holding. She nodded, and stepped wordlessly to one side to allow him to pass, before retreating into the cabin she shared with Max and closing the door behind her.

By this time, Dustin had made the jump to hyperspace and initiated the autopilot, so he, Lucas and Max had adjourned to the _Ebony Hawk_ ’s common room, where they had basic cooking facilities, two small washrooms, and a table where they ate and could play holochess. “It’s not much,” they always said of it fondly, “but it’s ours.”

When Mike arrived, he poured some caf into a cup and sipped it, before sliding onto the end of the curved bench which ran around three quarters of the table’s circumference. The other three were engrossed in a holochess match, but Max noticed as Mike yawned and grinned at him.

“Why are you so tired?” she teased. “I was the one doing the hard work today.” He smiled over his cup and made a rude gesture at her with his other hand. Lucas made his rancor step forward a few places, and Dustin slammed his fist down on the table with frustration as the rancor picked up his nydak and tore off one of its arms with its teeth.

“Damn it,” he muttered, as Lucas leaned back in his seat, a smug smile plastered across his face.

“Suck it, Henderson.”

“You’re definitely cheating.”

“Come on, how am I supposed to cheat at holochess?” Lucas’ protest was cut off as the door slid open again, and Mike had to look twice before he realised who it was. It was Will, but it was remarkable how different he looked now that he’d changed out of his Imperial uniform. The white pullover paired well with the dark green pants, but what really caught Mike’s attention was the navy-blue flight vest Will had put over the top of his getup.

“Is that my jacket?” he asked slowly, and Will reddened.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise,” he said, starting to take it off. “I just found it in the cabin.”

“No, it’s okay,” Mike interrupted hastily, “you can have it, I’m pretty sure I have another one.” He refrained from adding _it looks better on you,_ since he was fairly certain he was already blushing. After all, he didn’t want to embarrass himself any further.

* * *

An esteemed Imperial officer stood at his office window, gazing out at the grey clouds which surrounded the fortress, hovering over Mykapo, recruiting its youths, training them and putting them to work in the service of the Empire. A crystal-cut brandy tumbler in his hand, Wing Commander Brenner frowned as he reflected on the day. His greying eyebrows knitted more closely together as his mind fell to the trainee who had apparently defected that morning. Something was afoot here, he was sure of it. His units did not _defect_.

For he was, to be sure, one of the Empire’s most experienced officers, ranked alongside the likes of Tarkin, Yularen and Versio for his cunning and faithfulness to the Emperor they all served. The sole reason, in Brenner’s mind, that he had not been promoted was for his influence over the Empire’s youth training programme.

He oversaw the running of each Academy in turn for one training period, before moving on to the next, surveying the instructors and their methods, and correcting that which required improvement. In the sixteen years since the formation of the Imperial Academy, he had personally trained nearly forty thousand cadets, with overall responsibility for the education of millions.

No, his units did not defect. This was different. Sinister, somehow.

A brief chime from his desk informed him that someone was seeking entrance. He took a sip and savoured it before answering.

“Enter,” he called tonelessly. As he heard the familiar _swish_ of the door sliding aside, he didn’t bother to turn, instead identifying his visitor by the reflection in the window. “What is it, sergeant?” he said, not really in the mood for lowly subordinates, offering him bad news in grovelling tones to avoid incurring his anger.

Predictably, Sergeant Dispal cowered near the door as he delivered his report. “We’ve identified the cadet who defected, sir.”

“And?”

“Ess-Ell-three-two-two, sir. William Byers.”

Brenner scowled. One of his best. Well, formerly, he supposed. This was regrettable. “Anything else?”

“He… he appears to have had… help, sir. Witnesses reported that he escaped onboard a freighter.” A terrified silence punctuated these statements. “A craft of this kind has been reported at the scene during several skirmishes, sir, including a recent theft from one of our fuel refineries. It is suspected to serve the Rebel Alliance.”

At this infuriating revelation, Brenner closed his eyes, and his grip on the glass tightened until he heard it crack under his fingers. He felt a shard of glass slice cleanly through his skin as it splintered into three pieces and fell from his hand, but he barely noticed. Nor did he care that the fine liquor, mixed with droplets of blood, was now trickling from the remains of the tumbler across the polished floor. After all, further blood would be spilled, and next time, it would certainly not be his.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finds that life outside of the Imperial Academy isn't exactly what he expected. Nor, as it happens, are the people who rescued him.

Space was cold, Will realised. He didn’t notice at first – adrenaline, he supposed – but as soon as he’d undressed, he’d quickly started to feel the chill, and didn’t stop feeling it, even once he’d put on the clothes Mike had given him. He liked his new clothes, incidentally. He hadn’t worn anything except some variation on an Imperial uniform in about seven years, and he’d forgotten how comfortable civilian clothing was.

But despite the newfound comfort, he was still shivering involuntarily. He’d never really noticed how cold space was before. He’d never felt it in a TIE fighter before, even though the cockpits were not fitted with heaters. The reason they had no need for heaters was that they were built neither for durability nor safety: they were built to be cheap, expendable ships. They had no hyperdrive. They had no shields, with the exception of the recently-developed Defender class. By contrast, they had terrifyingly powerful forward blasters and could reach exceptional speeds, but both of these factors meant that the engine heated up quickly, meaning that their pilots had a convenient onboard heater.

Now, though, huddled on the lower bunk in the cabin he now shared with Mike, Will found that he missed the warmth, as he wrapped his blanket more tightly around himself. He’d been trying to catch a couple of hours’ sleep until they pulled back out of hyperspace, but for one thing, he just couldn’t stop shivering. For another, every time he closed his eyes, the image of Captain Ranndall’s face, stricken with fear, appeared in his mind’s eye, and he felt sick. He had already vomited twice since boarding, and had forced out a weak smile when jokingly asked how it was possible for a TIE pilot to experience motion-sickness. He couldn’t tell them the real reason. Not yet.

Mike’s voice echoed down the hallway from the cockpit. “We’re pulling out of hyperspace.” Will groaned and sat up, unwrapping himself from the blanket and swinging his legs down to the floor of the cabin. The other five were already in the cockpit, and Mike turned and smiled at Will as he turned. Cold and conflicted as he was, Will managed to smile back. He couldn’t help it: it was just sweet how hard Mike was working to make him feel welcome.

The swirling vortex of lightspeed vanished, and a planet loomed in front of them, covered in brown savannah punctuated by small seas. The spiralling cloud formation of a fierce hurricane was visible somewhere in the southern hemisphere, and smaller cloud clusters were scattered across the rest of the planet’s surface.

“Welcome to Dantooine,” Mike said, as El turned the ship seventy degrees to correct their course.

Presently, they approached an enormous cliff face, with several gaping holes in the side, which Will supposed were hangars. It was a hive of activity when they entered, with pilots and technicians swarming around starfighters and smaller transports. Will recognised the same class of Corvette from the Rebel attack the previous week. There was the guilt again.

“Here goes nothing,” Max murmured, and Will barely had time to wonder what she could mean before the others unbuckled their safety straps and filed out of the cockpit. He stood behind Mike as they waited for the ramp to lower, and definitely did not notice Mike’s jawline as he stuck out his chin defiantly.

“Remind me again, captain, what your orders were.” Will turned his head to see who Mike was staring at: stood before them was a middle-aged man dressed in an officer’s uniform, his arms folded over his broad chest.

“That’s Hopper,” Lucas whispered to Will. “We may be in trouble.”

“Commander,” Mike said, his voice clipped and harder than before. “This is Will Byers.” Hopper ignored the introduction completely, pointing an accusing finger in Mike’s direction.

“I gave you specific instructions,” Hopper said angrily, his eyebrows knitted so tightly together that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. “Analyse the datafile. Ensure it wasn’t real. Check to see if the Empire could trace that we’d received it, and delete it. What exactly did you not understand?”

“But it _was_ real, sir,” Mike said firmly. “You didn’t tell us what to do in that situation, so we used our initiative.”

“And in bringing him back, you may have compromised the security of this base!” Hopper shouted, and the entire crew flinched. He took a moment to compose himself, turning away and running a hand over his face in exasperation. “You’re suspended,” he said, his tone more controlled. “One week. No arguments.”

“But – ”

“You’re lucky it’s not more severe, _captain_.” Hopper’s emphasis on this final word left Will in no doubt that he was threatening Mike with demotion, and Mike clearly picked up on this too, as he made no further protest. “You’re on sanitation duty – all five of you.”

“Yes, sir.” Mike hung his head, defeated. “What about Will?”

“Until the council has decided what to do with him, he stays in sight of one of you at all times, to make sure he doesn’t try anything. Dismissed.” Hopper offered them one more cold stare before walking silently away.

“Well, we had that coming,” El sighed, and the others nodded gloomily.

“I guess we’d better get some sleep,” Max said. “Early start tomorrow.”

“Sanitation duty,” Dustin muttered despairingly. “I’d sooner kiss a Hutt.”

“I’m sure we can arrange that,” Max said, but it was clear her heart wasn’t really in the jibe. “’Night.”

The others all mumbled a half-hearted ‘good night’, and retreated to their cabins.

Mike powered up the low-level lamps in their cabin as Will shrugged off the flight vest he’d accidentally stolen from Mike, and stooped to sit down on the lower bunk. As he was unlacing his boots, Mike unzipped his flight suit and stepped out of it. Will looked up and blinked in shock, as his field of vision was filled by Mike’s underwear – at eye level – as he hung his flight suit upon a hook by the beds. He was thankful that Mike wasn’t looking at him, as he was definitely blushing.

“You don’t have to help tomorrow, you know,” Mike said, blissfully unaware of the state he’d inadvertently put Will in.

“Since I have to stay with one of you, I might as well,” Will reasoned, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I mean, what else am I going to do? Sit and watch?” He tore his eyes away from Mike’s exposed torso, suddenly very aware that he was, in fact, sitting and watching Mike undress, which was not good manners, even less so since they’d only met that morning.

Especially since _that morning_ was, for them, only a few hours ago, for they had left Mykapo in the morning and landed on Dantooine a little after sunset. No wonder Will didn’t really feel like sleeping. In truth, he rather wanted to go for a walk. _Better not_ , he thought gloomily. _They’d probably shoot me if they saw me wandering around._ With Hopper’s instructions to keep him effectively under lock and key, combined with the indisputable fact that his new friends had been ordered not to come and rescue him, he wasn’t feeling particularly welcome.

With this in mind, he waited until he thought Mike was asleep, and then pulled on his boots and slipped out, climbing up onto the roof of the _Ebony Hawk_ and enjoying the stillness and the warm summer night breeze rushing through the tunnels that made up the base.

“Will?” He heard Mike’s voice somewhere below him, and froze. Clearly he hadn’t been asleep after all.

“Up here,” Will called back, and Mike turned and squinted in the near-darkness. Will noticed that he’d put his shirt back on, and was concerned to find that he was a little disappointed.

“Thank goodness,” Mike said with a nervous laugh. “I was worried.” He climbed up the ship and sat down next to Will.

“That I was transmitting Rebel secrets to the Empire?” Will asked with a wry smile, and chuckled as Mike stuttered out an embarrassed response. “Don’t worry,” Will reassured him. “I don’t blame you – I admit it looks suspicious, waiting until I thought you were asleep and vanishing. It’s just…” he exhaled deeply. “it’s been a hard few days.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“And…” Will hesitated. “I don’t think anyone likes me here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mike exclaimed. “They just don’t know you yet.” Will gave him a withering look. “I’m serious,” Mike insisted. “I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think.”

Will let out a soft laugh through his teeth. “An Imperial turncoat responsible for the deaths of dozens of their comrades? I’m surprised they didn’t shoot me on the spot.”

Mike smiled sadly. “I guess the Rebellion weren’t too keen when I first signed up either.”

“Really?” Will asked with surprise. “You seem like the ideal Rebel.”

“As you’ve gathered,” Mike murmured, “origins are important to a lot of people.”

Will hummed an affirmative. “Where are you from, then?”

“Coruscant,” Mike said, and Will looked at him with surprise. “My father is the planet’s senator, has been since the clone wars. When the Republic fell, he – along with the rest of my family – came out in support of the Emperor and the new order.”

“So how did you end up here?”

“I knew nothing of it, at the time. I mean, I was five when the war ended! How could I?” Mike sighed, his mop of wavy hair bouncing as he shook his head in frustration. “As I got older, though, I started piecing things together, and I found I didn’t believe what the HoloNet said, or the garbage that my parents spouted about how wonderful the Emperor was. How gracious. How skilfully he’d seen off the threat of the Jedi and the Separatists.” His face twisted in revulsion, and Will felt a peculiar sensation in his stomach: it was the exact same kind of thing he’d been taught at the Academy.

“I know how you feel,” he said quietly.

“I was due to enter the Academy,” Mike said with a derisive laugh. “I pleaded with my parents not to make me; I tried to persuade them to let me study, to become a senator like my sister. But they couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t want to ‘uphold the principles of the Empire’, as they put it. So I left.”

“Left the Academy?” Will asked, and Mike shook his head.

“No, I left home. I was only fourteen, so I was lucky – my family was rich, and I had a lot of savings in Imperial credits. So I bought a ship,” he said with a smile, and patted the roof of the _Ebony Hawk_ affectionately, “escaped the capital and – ”

“And became a freedom fighter?” Will suggested with a smile, and Mike grinned.

“That’s not quite how I’d have put it,” he admitted. “But yeah, I guess so. I didn’t join the Rebellion at first.”

“No?”

“Well, there wasn’t really a Rebellion at that time,” Mike explained. “Not officially, anyway – just individual groups.”

“‘Insurgents’, the Empire calls them,” Will said, and Mike nodded.

“Exactly. I fought on my own for a long time, but when Senator Mothma put out a call to form a proper Alliance, I just had to be involved.”

“I take it Commander Hopper still hasn’t warmed to you,” Will remarked.

Mike grimaced. “I guess not.” Will laughed, and Mike swung his legs up and lay down on his back. Will copied him as Mike continued. “Nah, I think he likes me, really.”

“He was pretty mad earlier, though,” Will said. “I’m sorry if I’ve made things difficult for you and the others.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you haven’t,” Mike said gently. “I’m glad we came to find you.”

“Was it worth sanitation duty?”

“Nope, nothing’s worth sanitation duty.” Will laughed at this, and turned his head to look at Mike. His eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise when he saw that Mike was already gazing at him. “Tell me about life in the Empire?” Mike asked softly.

Will sighed. “I joined when I was fifteen, the same as most cadets, and mostly for the same reason, too. We didn’t have any particular interest in the Empire, but we needed money to send to our families. When I left, my mom was running a shop in the capital on Mykapo, so every credit I made as a trooper went to her – not that it was much.” He fell silent for a moment. “I don’t really know what’ll happen to her now. If she’s still there at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Mike said. “What about the Academy? What was that like?”

“My life hasn’t been my own since I joined. The transmission I made? That was probably my first real act of free will in about seven years.”

“Sounds like hell,” Mike said with feeling.

“The thing is,” Will said thoughtfully, “until several days ago, it wasn’t that bad. We were always taught that… being at the Academy was a privilege, and told how lucky we were that we weren’t on the surface, where there were people starving and dying under insurgent attacks.” Will’s lips thinned with disdain. “I always wondered why we weren’t doing anything about it, if the Empire knew it was happening.”

“Because it’s not true,” Mike said quietly. “I mean, Mykapo isn’t the most affluent place, but from what I’ve seen, not many are actually starving.”

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” Will said bitterly. “You’d think the Empire would want to advertise that one of its loyal planets was actually well-off, but never mind.”

“I guess there are benefits to both angles of the propaganda,” Mike mused.

“True,” Will said. “But from a purely, you know, practical point of view, it was a decent place to be.” He stifled a yawn and continued. “I had food, an occupation, a bed at night, and a very small income. Simply by default, I was better-off than a quarter of the galaxy.”

“So, in your transmission,” Mike said thoughtfully, “you said you’d seen the Empire for what it was. Do you mind me asking what happened?”

Will’s face darkened. “There was a Rebel attack on the Imperial garrison on Mykapo. We fought them off, but an A-wing fighter was caught in a tractor beam, and the pilot was captured.”

“Captain Ranndall,” Mike said sadly, and Will almost choked. _Mike had known him._ He suddenly couldn’t speak, and perhaps Mike noticed, because he prompted, “Will?”

“I’ll tell you,” he said, ashamed of how soft and shaky his voice had become, “but you’ll probably hate me when I have.”

“I don’t think I could hate you,” Mike said, his voice gentle.

“We were brought to watch his interrogation, me and a few other pilots,” Will said. “But the captain spat in the admiral’s face, and he ordered me to execute him.” Mike said nothing. “I tried to avoid it,” Will said desperately. “I told the admiral that prisoners had the right to a trial, but he didn’t care. I knew I’d be court-martialled and tried for treason if I didn’t do it, so I – ” Will’s voice cracked. He couldn’t finish. Mike still didn’t speak, but Will suddenly felt the warmth of Mike’s hand against his own, his fingers fumbling to lace themselves together with Will’s.

“El often says that our number one objective is just to survive,” he said slowly. “It’s about making snap decisions of whether to save one life or hundreds. Those calls are often impossible to make, but we still have to choose. You made the choice, too. I guess now you just have to make sure it was worth it.” Silence fell for a moment. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, actually.” Will stifled a yawn, and Mike squeezed his hand.

“Come on. I know it only feels like you’ve been up a few hours, but it’s probably a good idea to get at least a little sleep.”

“Interplanetary jet lag is the worst,” Will muttered, and Mike hummed in agreement. “You go on ahead, I have to use the refresher.”

“Guess I’ll have to come with you,” Mike said, a wicked glint in his eye. “You’re not supposed to leave my sight, remember?” Will shoved him off the _Ebony Hawk_ ’s wing, and Mike let out a stifled shriek as he fell three feet to the ground. They laughed it off, and Mike did, in fact, allow him to relieve himself in private, but Will couldn’t stop thinking about it until long after he got into bed.

Was Mike _flirting_ with him?

* * *

Mike groaned as he stirred to the sound of a mechanical arm banging loudly on the cabin door.

“Go away, Chester,” he mumbled, and the disgruntled astromech let out one of his clunking warbles, to the effect that he disliked acting like Mike’s servant as much as Mike did. He then whirred away and banged on Dustin and Lucas’ door. The commotion that followed – which sounded suspiciously like one of them had kicked Chester down the hallway – woke Mike properly, and he heard Will let out a strained sigh from somewhere beneath his bunk. “Morning,” he said crossly, dropping down from his bunk and pulling a clean shirt out of the cupboard set into the wall.

“Why do you call the droid ‘Chester’?” Will mumbled sleepily, sitting up and wincing as he bumped his head on the underside of Mike’s bed.

“His designation,” Mike said, pausing dressing to scribble something in an old notebook. He passed it over to Will, and it read ‘C1-13S’. “It looks a bit like the start of the name ‘Chester’.”

“Huh,” Will said, squinting at the letters in the book. He had never considered that droids could have names before. The Empire didn’t think much of droids, and certainly didn’t seem to share the affection for them that some rebels had.

“You really don’t have to come with us today, you know,” Mike said again, but Will shook his head, his bangs swaying back and forth across his forehead. It occurred to Mike that Will must have washed his hair before going to bed, because it was the first time he’d seen him without the standard-issue gel that the Empire forced its troops to wear. He looked so small and grumpy that Mike couldn’t help but smile.

“No, I’ll help,” he said, standing up and yawning. “Besides, I’m hungry. What happens about food around here?”

“Well, when we’re off-world we cook for ourselves,” Mike explained. “Dustin, usually – he’s our technician, so he generally stays with the _Hawk_ when the rest of us are on the ground, so he cooks, since he’s here anyway.” He saw Will nod, presumably to show he was listening, so he continued. “When we’re here, though, we eat with the other troops.”

“Is the food good?” Will asked hopefully.

“It’s okay,” Mike shrugged, pulling on his spare jacket and brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I mean, I was raised on a slightly richer diet, but… you know what?” he said, pulling on his boots. “Let’s just go, and you can see. The others won’t be ready yet anyway.”

“Sure,” Will said with an amicable nod, so Mike led him out of the _Ebony Hawk_ , calling to the others to the effect that he and Will would meet them there. They ambled over to the food hall; although, Mike reasoned, calling it a ‘food hall’ was a slight overstatement.

The Rebels’ base, set into a massive cliff face overlooking the continent’s Eastern Ocean, was considerably bigger than it looked. In truth, if the whole base was hollowed out, it was estimated that a star destroyer could just about be parked inside. However, since most of the Alliance’s ships had to fit inside, only half of the available space could actually be used by the occupants. Really, it was only permanent residents – officers, technicians and maintenance crews – who had rooms, and visitors absolutely had to sleep on their ships if they could, as there simply was not space for them anywhere else.

The majority of the other rooms had been repurposed as training and command centres, conference rooms, offices for the commanders, and workshops. There were only two rooms that were ever used for recreation, and one of these had been rather grandly dubbed the ‘food hall’, where simple meals were served three times a day, to anyone on the base who wanted it. Mike often found himself wondering where on earth they got the funds, but as Lucas had once pointed out, the Rebellion was founded by several rich senators, who likely donated their private wealth for such matters.

Now, though, he walked around the perimeter of the room, stopping behind some pilots who were in line to get some bread. Mike pointed out a few notable individuals who passed in and out, and introduced Will to the pilots who were queuing in front of them.

“Hey, Wheeler,” one of them said. “Have you heard the latest?” Mike shook his head, and they grinned at each other.

“There’s a crew in the shit with Hopper,” the second one said. “He’s _seriously_ pissed. Apparently they went to break out a turncoat without permission.” Will suddenly went very quiet, and Mike’s ears burned.

“Yeah,” Mike said delicately. “I heard that.”

“You don’t need to try and protect me,” Will said gently, before the first pilot spoke again.

“I mean, of all the officers,” he chuckled, “who would defy _Hopper_ to go and break out one stormtrooper who was in too deep?”

“I’m the turncoat,” Will said coldly, and the smiles fell from their faces. “I left because I was forced to kill an unarmed prisoner without a trial.”

“Does that meet your standards for defecting?” Mike added, folding his arms.

The pilots exchanged uncomfortable glances as the silence lengthened. “We didn’t mean any offence,” the third said hastily. “We were laughing at Hopper more than you, you see.” Will said nothing, seeing all too well.

“That… was actually pretty brave, what you did,” the second said, her voice quiet and abashed. They were spared any further embarrassment as the line moved forward, and all three seized a couple of pieces of bread and seemingly vanished.

“I’m so sorry,” Mike said seriously, and Will rolled his eyes.

“I told you this would happen,” he said, pursing his lips in irritation.

“Yeah, you did,” Mike admitted, spooning honey onto his bread. “I… was naïve to assume otherwise.”

Will shook his head as he poured granadilla juice into a tumbler. “I liked your optimism. It was sweet.” Mike bit back a smile, as Dustin and Max arrived with food of their own.

“Thanks for waiting,” Max remarked.

“Where are Lucas and El?” Mike asked, ignoring the dig.

“El went down the mountain,” Dustin said with his mouth full. “Lucas went to make a start on the base’s washrooms. Said he didn’t want to do it on a full stomach.” Mike stopped chewing. This was actually rather a good point, which he hadn’t considered. He seemed to have suddenly lost his appetite.

“Down the mountain?” Will asked curiously.

“Yeah, she does that most mornings when we’re here,” Max said. “Says it helps her think.”

“Is it far?”

“I think it’s about a mile from the edge of the hangar to ground level,” Dustin said with a glance to the other two, who nodded.

“I expect she’d let you go with her,” Max said, “once you’ve got to know her better.”

Will hummed an affirmative. “This is really good,” he said through a mouthful of bread and honey. “Way better than the nutrition packs and stuff they gave us at the Academy.”

“Sounds awful,” Dustin said with a grimace.

“It kept us alive,” Will shrugged. “Just about. I’ve never had honey before though.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s expensive on Mykapo,” he said. “It has to be imported. Me and my mom had granadilla juice when I was growing up though.”

“I love that stuff,” Max said, pouring herself some and raising the glass in Will’s direction in a pretend toast. “I can’t imagine not having it now.”

“Eh, the actual fruit’s nicer,” Dustin said. “It’s okay, though.”

“‘Okay’?” Will said incredulously. “This meal alone was worth defecting for.” Mike chuckled, but he felt a pang of sadness as he realised that Will wasn’t entirely joking – clearly he’d had no idea what he was missing. Mike watched him as he chatted with the others, laughing for clearly the first time in years. Mike was surprised to find that it was a sound he never wanted to stop hearing.

* * *

Although the sun was still a few hours from sinking over Mykapo’s horizon, the dark clouds absorbed its light, and rain pelted the ground below as a small Imperial shuttle touched gently down. Around the capital’s market square, civilians huddled in doorways and peered nervously out through their shutters at the scene below, watching three pairs of stormtroopers, clad in red-and-white streaked armour, file out and line up outside. Their fear was not unjustified.

For these were shock troopers: high-achieving troops selected from the standard ranks and outfitted with numerous weapons, including a heavy DLT-19 repeating blaster, handheld explosives, and specialised armour thick enough to withstand a bowcaster bolt as close as twenty paces.

An ageing Imperial officer followed them out and stood in front of them, barely noticing the rain leaving dark spots on his crisp teal uniform. He had a purpose here, and he would fulfil it.

“Bring the witness,” Wing Commander Brenner said, and an old man, bound and the wrist and ankles, was shoved to his knees in front of him. Brenner cleared his throat and addressed the market square in general. “Faithful citizens of Mykapo,” he said, his voice clear, loud and merciless. “Observe. One of your number is a traitor to your Empire.” He paused for effect. “This man,” he continued, pointing an accusatory finger at the figure slumped, shaking, at his feet, “allowed a known Rebel ship to dock in his landing bay, and to escort a treasonous cadet off-world. He has been brought here to demonstrate what happens to those who make a mockery of our Emperor by aiding and abetting traitors and petty criminals.” He leaned over, smiling callously down at the old man. “The name of the ship, if you please.”

“You will never win,” the man said, his voice quiet and melancholic, as if he had worked out what was about to happen.

“We shall see,” Brenner said, gesturing to one of the shock troopers, who marched over and kicked the old man onto his back. The assembled civilians gasped as the trooper reached over his shoulder and seized a metal pole, about five feet long. As he grasped the electrostaff, the two ends glowed with indigo light, crackling as the raindrops hit it, evaporating from the heat of the current. “Do it,” Brenner said in a bored voice, and the trooper lunged, jabbing the electrostaff sharply against the old man’s torso, making him howl with agony.

“Just… kill… me…” the man whimpered.

“I want the name.” Brenner gestured again, and the man screamed in pain as the rod singed his tunic and burned through his skin, almost to the bone beneath. “ _The name!_ ” Brenner shouted.

“ _EBONY HAWK!_ ” the man howled, unable to bear it any longer, and the shock trooper immediately returned the electrostaff to its strap on his back.

“Thank you,” Brenner said with a sardonic smile. “You’ve been most helpful.” He nodded to the shock troopers, who surrounded their prisoner at perfect sixty-degree intervals. “Ready,” Brenner said, and the shock troopers primed their blasters in perfect synchronisation. “Aim.” They lifted their weapons, each of them aiming at a different part of the old man’s body, as previously instructed.

“Please,” he choked with the last of his breath.

“Fire.”

One woman stood in the doorway to her shop, unable to believe what she was witnessing. Greying streaks highlighted her chestnut-coloured hair, and tears of horror stung her wide brown eyes as she observed the ruthless execution outside, praying that her son was not involved.

The market square lit up as remorseless bolts of red plasma ripped through the old man for nearly a minute, until Brenner held up his hand. The troopers dutifully ceased fire and marched back onto the shuttle, leaving the corpse behind, along with plumes of smoke and a sickening smell of charred flesh, as a clear message to the city’s residents of what happened to those who opposed the Emperor’s rule.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike, Will and the crew conduct a raid on an Imperial munitions factory. Not everything goes according to plan, though, and their antics catch the attention of a new, far more dangerous adversary...

Dantooine’s sun had not quite risen, and the early morning twilight left the air feeling cool and fresh. El permitted herself to shiver, before deciding that she simply would not be cold, and zipped up her flight jacket. The mouth of the cave hangar seemed to widen as she drew closer to it, and as always, she examined the drop to the rocky path she had forged in the time since the base’s establishment. The stones did not seem to have shifted, and she concluded that it would be perfectly safe to drop down. Getting back up again, likewise, would be no trouble for her, as she had always been good at climbing.

She was about to jump when something made her pause and turn around. Will was approaching her, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. She displayed no outward sign of irritation, as this was not generally in her character, but she was slightly peeved nonetheless. El did not like to think of herself as an emotional person, preferring instead to view things exactly as they were. In this moment, for example, ‘as they were’ meant an interloper intruding on her morning walk down the mountain.

It would be unfair to say that El disliked Will, a suggestion which she had firmly denied when Mike had accused her of it a few days prior, as they were mopping the floor of the food hall between meals. She liked him very much, and although it had taken her some time to forgive his past as an Imperial, she also acknowledged that for some, their lot in life made it harder to reject poor choices. As Mike had put it, some people just got lucky, and Will had not. He had needed a living, which the Empire had provided. In the absence of any better options, Will had taken it.

But there were no second chances. Will could not undo his time with the Empire, and she suspected – but could not prove – that he viewed running away as an opportunity to forget his past, which, El believed, was wrong. It was one thing to allow oneself to move on from the past, and to let it to pass out of one’s life. In El’s opinion, it was quite another to simply pretend it did not exist.

There was plenty that El suspected about Will.

Now, though, was not the time nor the place to go into any of it, so she simply said, “Good morning,” as he drew within earshot.

“Hey,” he said with a slightly awkward smile. “I was wondering if I could come with you today.”

“Where?” she asked, and his face twitched in confusion.

“Well… wherever it is that you go.”

“If you don’t know where I’m going,” she said with a shrug, “then it would be wrong for you to come.”

“But if I don’t come,” Will said, looking positively baffled, “how can I know?”

El shrugged again. “I’ll see you later.” She turned and stepped off the cliff, hearing Will let out a startled cry behind her. As she landed neatly on the stony path below, she looked back up to where he was peering over the edge. “I’m fine.” She offered him a conciliatory smile, then turned back around and wandered off. He would come with her one day; of this she was sure. But not today.

* * *

As their cabin door slid open, Mike stirred, light flooding in from the fluorescents in the hallway. “Whassat?” he mumbled, his bleary eyes making out Will’s vague form just below his line of sight. “Will? What time is it?”

“It’s nearly six,” Will said, kicking off his boots and climbing back onto his bunk, the pale glow of a holoscreen casting a dull beam from underneath Mike’s bed. Mike groaned and flopped his face back onto his pillow.

“Why are you up so early?” he grumbled into his pillow, and he heard Will let out a huff.

“I wanted to walk with El this morning,” he said. “I wanted to see where she goes,” he added, and Mike felt a momentary flicker of jealousy, before thinking, _Don’t be ridiculous._

After all, it wasn’t as though Will didn’t want to be around him. Whether or not he felt the same way as Mike – this remained unclear to him – Will had spent most of the last week at Mike’s side. Surprisingly, Mike hadn’t found it irritating at all, which he often did when spending too much time around people. In fact, when Will had been working alongside a different member of the crew, Mike had missed him. He had found himself wondering, based on the shining smile Will let out each time he returned, whether Will had missed him too.

Now, though, Will was still talking about El, and it made Mike sort of want to hit something.

“…she’s just always so cryptic,” he said, and suddenly Mike felt something nudge against his foot. He rolled over and looked up, and Will had hopped up and sat on the end of his bed. “Just now, she was like, ‘if you don’t know where I’m going, then you shouldn’t come’. Like, what does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” Mike sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Clearly he wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight. “El’s always been a little… I don’t know, eccentric?”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Mike yawned into his hand, stifling a startled squeak as Will shuffled in under the blanket at the other end of the bunk. He was suddenly immensely thankful that he had gone to bed wearing underwear. “She, uh, was on her own for a long time before she joined the Rebellion.”

“How long?” Will asked.

“Seventeen, eighteen years,” Mike said after a moment’s thought. “Something like that, anyway.” He saw Will’s look of amazement and hastily added, “Oh, she’s a bit older than us. I think she said she was about eleven when she was, uh, orphaned.”

Will sensed that there was some element of the truth that Mike was fudging, but he didn’t press the issue.

“So how did you meet her?”

“She saved my life, actually,” Mike said. “It was before I joined the Rebellion, and was fighting on my own. I’d got myself into a bit of trouble on Rishaani 3, and there was a crime family who wanted to kill me to repay a debt. They had me cornered, when El showed up and took them out – all three of its highest leaders and their enforcers.”

“All of them?” Will said, astonished.

Mike nodded earnestly. “In case you hadn’t already noticed, she’s scary with a blaster. It was incredible, the syndicate fell apart almost overnight. I invited her to join the crew.”

“So that’s why she’s Jet Two?” Will asked. “Because she was the first to join you?”

“Yeah, exactly. Lucas joined next, then Dustin, then Max, then you.” He saw Will’s expression shift to one of surprise.

“Me?”

“Of course!” Mike was about to say something more, but then he suddenly remembered something, and kicked off the blanket. “Speaking of which, I almost forgot..” He dropped to the floor and pulled something out of the pocket of his flight jacket. “We got you this.” He climbed back up, resting on his knees as he passed the gift over to Will. Will took it and turned it over, and his mouth opened slightly in awe. It was a white cloth patch, with the Rebel Alliance’s familiar insignia stitched in navy blue. “We thought you could stitch it onto your flight jacket.”

“Really?” Will’s voice was as soft as his smile. He seemed a little overwhelmed.

“You’re one of us now, Jet Six.”

A couple of hours later, the crew of the _Ebony Hawk_ gathered around the holomap table in Commander Hopper’s office for the first time in a week. They all saluted as he entered, and he grunted in acknowledgement. With their suspension over, he had no right to continue to berate them, and although Mike did observe Hopper rolling his eyes when he noticed the Rebel emblem, neatly sewn onto Will’s jacket, he did not question Will’s presence amongst them. Mike felt a smug sense of satisfaction at this development.

“Where are we going next, sir?” Dustin asked.

“Sullust,” Hopper said, pressing a button on his control pad. The holomap zoomed in, revealing the dark landscape of the volcanic planet; Mike could just about make out the lines running across its surface that were its signature lava rivers. “There’s an Imperial munitions factory that’s about to export a massive shipment of proton torpedoes, needed for the Empire’s bombers.”  
“We’re stealing them?” Mike said, his eyes lighting up.

“As many as you can, by any means necessary. Blow up the factory if you have to.”

“Nice,” Lucas breathed, a grin spreading across his face.

“Presumably you’ll be wanting to take him with you?” Hopper said, eyeing Will with disdain.

“Corporal Byers is a member of our crew, now, commander,” Max said with a faint smirk.

Hopper narrowed his eyes. “By whose authority?”

“General Slovesiid authorised his initiation this morning, sir.” Mike’s reply was confident and calm, trying his hardest to mask the glee he was feeling from annoying the commander. Hopper pursed his lips, but did not protest as he made direct eye contact with Will.

“Very well. Do the Rebellion proud, _corporal_ ,” he said, before turning to Mike. “Captain, you and your crew may leave as soon as you are ready. Dismissed.”

“Ooh, he’s rattled,” Max said, a wicked grin plastered across her face. “Love it when that happens.”

“I’m with you there.” Mike smiled at Will before turning to Dustin. “Is the _Hawk_ ready to go?”

“Ready as she’ll ever be, captain,” Dustin with a two-fingered salute.

Mike fidgeted uncomfortably on the unstable rocks they were crouched on, hiding behind a stone mound carved out of the ground by a small lava stream a few feet away. The stones shifted as he moved, and some rolled down into the stream.

“Stop it,” Max hissed. “No one really knows what lava feels like, but I don’t want to be the person who finds out.”

“I can’t help it,” he whispered back crossly. “I’m just concerned.”

“What, about Will?” Mike must have flushed, because she smiled, only slightly sadistically. “He'll be fine - El's with him. Besides, he can take care of himself, so why don’t you just admit what all this is about?”

“What all _what_ is about?”

“How adamant you were that Will should be given a rank? And assigned to our squad specifically?”

“I don’t know what you’re – ”

“And how willing you were share your cabin with a total stranger, and – ”

“Do you _have_ a point?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Just say you like him, and be done with it!”

“What – I don’t – ” His incoherent protests were cut off by two blinks of a bright red light from above the facility.

“That’s Lucas’ signal,” she said, thumping him on the arm and vaulting over the ridge. “Come on!”

Mike followed her as they ran between cover, nearly always looking opposite ways, covering each other as they traversed the shifting rocky ground. At one point, though, they let their guard down, and a voice somewhere behind them called out, “Hey, you! What are you two doing here?” As they whirled round, a powerful energy bolt appeared seemingly from nowhere, hitting the exact centre of the stormtrooper’s helmet, killing him instantly. Mike and Max both breathed a sigh of relief: Lucas’ expert skills with a sniper rifle had come through again.

“Thanks, Jet Three,” Mike whispered into his commlink. “That could have been nasty.”

“ _No problem, Jet One,_ ” Lucas called back. “ _Get him out of sight, though, or he’ll attract attention._ ”

“Copy that.” They dragged him into the shadows, and Max stole his wrist-comm, so they could track the Imperials’ transmissions. Glancing around, they sneaked across a landing platform and hid behind a storage crate as a patrol group passed. They had just reached one of the facility’s external doors when they heard something that made Mike’s blood run cold: the unmistakeable crash of large metal feet and hydraulic cylinders, growing gradually louder.

* * *

The plan had been quite simple, all things considered: in pairs, Mike, El, Will and Max would flank the stormtroopers by sneaking into the refinery, taking out as many as possible before they reached the cargo loading platform, with Lucas covering them. Dustin would then arrive with the _Ebony Hawk_ , they would steal as many crates of proton torpedoes as the cargo hold could fit, and they would leave with their precious haul.

However, the plan had just become a lot more complicated.

Will froze – years of Imperial training flooded back to him as the all-too-familiar sound of an Imperial AT-ST walker echoed across the rocky plain.

“El,” he murmured, but she was already nodding.

“Yeah, I know.” He peered out of the small cave they were sheltering in, and his fears were realised.

Pejoratively dubbed ‘chicken-walkers’, this moniker, in Will’s opinion, severely understated the destructive potential of these monstrous machines. Although they in no way compared with the technological horror that was the Empire’s AT-AT walkers, a single scout walker could level a town in minutes with its deadly arsenal of twin blaster cannons, a mid-range grenade launcher and heat-seeking missiles. Against small vehicles they were a force to be reckoned with, and against infantry they were lethal. Will could see their chances of success dwindling by the moment.

“Jet One, Jet Five, there’s a walker inbound on our position.”

“ _Copy that, Jet Six._ ” Mike’s voice, unusually, provided Will with little comfort. “ _Can you take it out?_ ”

“Negative,” Will said firmly. “Not possible for anyone to do alone.” Inexplicably, he heard El tut behind him, but he ignored her. “I suggest a retreat.”

“ _Negative,_ ” Mike echoed back to him. “ _This is too important. The Alliance needs these torpedoes, and the more the Empire has, the more vulnerable we –_ ”

Will didn’t hear the end of Mike’s transmission; he was rather distracted by the AT-ST’s cockpit suddenly turning towards their cave.

“Oh, no,” Will breathed, as it fired two shots into the rocky outcrop above them. Stones large and small started to crumble and fall, dust pluming up around them. Will instinctively threw himself on the ground and curled up into a ball, waiting for the rock which would crush him.

But it never came.

“Move.” El’s voice was calm, but she gasped as though straining.

“What?” Will looked up in confusion.

“I said, move!” Will obeyed without further question, stumbling to a storage crate and pulling out his new blaster. He turned back to the cave, still utterly baffled as to how he was alive.

To his total astonishment, he saw El, walking out of the cave with one hand outstretched. The rocks around her hung perfectly still, suspended around her in mid-air. She pulled her hand back to her shoulder, then with a grunt of effort, thrust it forward.

As if they were obeying her command, the stones shot forward, pelting the AT-ST’s cockpit like a barrage of obsidian grenades. The walker’s hull dented slightly, and it recoiled a step or two, but its driver recovered quickly, angling its blaster cannons down and preparing to fire. Suddenly, El reached into a small compartment concealed in the leg of her pants, and suddenly a beam of azure energy flowed from her hand. Will’s eyes widened even further.

For he had never seen a lightsaber before.

The AT-ST fired, and Will let out a shout of, “No!” but El remained standing. There were, however, two burn marks scorched into the walker’s hull. It fired again, and this time El swung her blade with more purpose, deflecting the blaster bolts into the chests of two approaching stormtroopers, whose blastoid armour might have been made of parchment for how well it protected them. Noticing the advancing infantry for the first time, Will started taking pot shots at them, while simultaneously trying to watch El’s standoff with the AT-ST.

The walker had started to take hasty steps backwards as El drew nearer to it, but she broke into a run, sprinting easily between its legs. Her lightsaber blade curved in one smooth arc, passing from one hand to the other, and suddenly the metal framework of its legs glowed orange, and the walker crumpled to the ground, all structural integrity wiped away in an instant.

Will watched El turn towards him, the light of the plasma blade illuminating her normally placid features. Her eyebrows were furrowed in an expression that wasn’t quite anger, but he felt a chill run down his spine all the same. For seven years he had been trained not to experience fear. But now, looking into her dark eyes, glittering with ocean-blue flame as blaster-fire danced around her, he knew true fear for the first time.

What puzzled him was that he wasn’t sure the fear he felt was entirely his own.

Suddenly the blade dissolved to nothingness, and she was running again. Only this time, she was running towards him. Again, Will braced himself for the end he knew was coming: the sapphire energy beam would shine once more, and he would feel it burn through his ribcage, through his heart and out through his back. For this was a Jedi, an agent of darkness hell-bent on the destruction of civilisation, who despised those who did not fear them and whose only desire was to dominate. Instinctively, he pointed his blaster and fired. El reached out, and suddenly Will felt the weapon slip from his fingers. It flew willingly through the air, and she caught it by its barrel.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “Come on!” She didn’t give him the blaster pistol back, but neither did she kill him, which came as a welcome surprise. Too confused to disobey, he broke into a run and followed her.

Waves of stormtroopers poured out of the refinery’s exterior blast doors, and El lifted her commlink to her lips.

“This is Jet Two to Jet Four. What’s your status?”

“ _Currently loading. Good to hear your voice, Jet Two._ ”

“We’ll be there soon,” El said, sparing time for a glare in Will’s direction.

Presently the landing pad came into view, where the _Ebony Hawk_ had touched down. Lucas knelt at the edge of the platform, sniping at stormtroopers from above while Will and El made their way up the steep slope. They ran onto the ship and collapsed in the hold, which was stacked almost to the ceiling with crates. They took off almost immediately, and a different sort of fight started.

“What were you thinking?” El demanded between deep, sharp breaths.

“Stay back.” Will clutched at the stitch developing in his side and backed away as far as he could from her.

“Will, what’s going on?” Mike asked, crouching down and resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Mike, don’t go near her,” Will gasped, trying to pull him away from El. “She’s dangerous!” They bumped into Dustin, who was descending the ladder into the hold.

“What’s happening?” he asked, a little bemused.

“He tried to shoot me!” El jabbed an accusing finger in his direction. Chester, sat in the corner cataloguing their cargo, bleeped to the effect that it was hardly surprising: he was an Imperial, after all, so it was in his nature.

“Of course I did, she’s a Jedi!” he protested.

“Oh, no,” Mike sighed, and the others let out murmurs of dissent.

“Wait, did you know?” Will asked, puzzled.

“I _told_ you this would happen,” Max said, folding her arms. “We should have told him before we left.”

“Can you imagine what would have happened if he’d done this at the base?” Lucas pointed out. “Hopper would have had him shot!”

Will looked between them incredulously. None of them looked the least bit surprised, or even concerned that there was someone in this room who most likely wanted them all dead. “El,” Mike was saying quietly. “I think it was an honest mistake.”

El snorted. “Even if it was, he still tried to kill me after I literally saved his life!”

“That’s low, man,” Lucas said with feeling. Will struggled to stand up and pointed at El.

“She wasn’t saving me, she was saving herself,” he said firmly. “Because that’s what they _do_.”

“Oh, boy,” Dustin murmured. “I’ll go and put some caf on. I think we’re going to need it.”

“Is someone going to explain why you’re not even slightly bothered about this?” Will asked angrily.

“We will,” Mike said. “Come on, let’s go and sit more comfortably and talk this out.”

A profoundly awkward silence hung in the air around the _Ebony Hawk_ ’s common room. Dustin had engaged the autopilot, and was now perched on the countertop. Will was pacing the room, while the other four sat around the table.

“Will,” El said. Her voice had resumed its usual calm tone, and it cut neatly through the silence. “You were right – to an extent. I am a Jedi, of sorts.”

“I knew it,” he said angrily. “I _knew_ there was something up with you. Didn’t I tell you, Mike, this morning?” Mike said nothing, but merely cleared his throat and sipped his caf.

“You are wrong, though, in assuming that I want to kill you,” she went on, paying no attention to his outburst. “Nor did I save you to simply save myself. I could have done so and left you to die, but I didn’t want to. In fact,” she went on, “you didn’t know of my abilities until the walker attacked, and I’d had ample opportunity to kill you by then, but again, I did not.” Will found he had no answer to this.

“What the Empire says about the Jedi isn’t true, Will,” Mike said gently. “It’s a lie, made up by the Emperor to legitimise his dictatorship.”

“For centuries, the Jedi tried to keep the peace in the Republic,” El explained. “But somewhere along the line, we messed up. We became arrogant, and too confident in our own power.”

“That’s not very fair,” Max said quietly. “It wasn’t exactly you. You were only nine when it happened.”

“When what happened?” Will asked suspiciously.

“The fall,” El said. Her tone was hollow and cold, and it made Will shiver. “The end of everything. The Purge.” Silence greeted this pronouncement, and El continued. “Max is right, I was only a child. I had been through my initial training, and had just passed my first trial when it ended.”

“The clone wars,” Lucas filled in.

“It began at the end, really,” El mused. “The war was the Empire’s own initial training, and the Purge its own first trial. It passed with flying colours.”

“I don’t understand.”

She looked sadly at Will before going on. “The Emperor set us up. He seized all possible power, and the Jedi fought back. He framed them, dubbed them traitors, and ordered their execution – quite literally. Three words from him and the clone troopers turned on their Jedi generals and massacred them.”

“How did you survive?”

“My master sacrificed herself to buy me time to escape,” El said. “So don’t you ever tell me that the Jedi only care about saving themselves.” Will nodded, suddenly ashamed of himself. For a week he’d been complaining about the Rebel personnel making snap judgements about him as a former Imperial, and now he’d just tried to kill the young woman who’d saved his life, because she was holding a lightsaber and lifting rocks with her mind.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know. I guess of all the things I’ve been teaching myself to forget, it didn’t occur to me that the Empire might have lied about this too.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said simply, and he understood her perfectly: _learn to be better._ He was certainly trying to.

* * *

Brenner walked slowly, serenely through the wreckage. It was invisible from the outside, but he was livid. Not only had this infuriating Rebel cell stolen a fortune’s worth of armaments – which would, no doubt, now be used against the Empire – but the refinery’s personnel had allowed them to escape. Again.

The only positive he could see was that since he was not responsible for this facility, no blame would fall at his feet.

“Wing commander,” said the officer showing him around, “there’s something else should see. The rebels took down a scout walker.”

“Single-handed?” he asked in well-contained astonishment.

“In a manner of speaking, sir. But there’s an irregularity. A secondary investigator has been called in.”

“I am overseeing this investigation, lieutenant,” Brenner snapped.

“Yes, sir, but these are specific orders from Governor Mestrak.”

“Show me the walker.” Brenner’s patience was running thin.

“Of course, wing commander.” The stormtrooper led him to the downed AT-ST, and led him around it to examine its legs. “As you can see, sir, the legs have been severed, and the metal appears to have melted where it was severed.”

Brenner’s eyes widened in astonishment. “But that can only be…” He tailed off, unwilling to imagine the consequences for him if the culprit was not found.

A shadow passed over the damage inspection team, as a ship momentarily blotted out the sun. Brenner glanced upwards, and squinted as the light returned, revealing an advanced TIE fighter, its wings folding inwards as it gently came to rest on the stony ground. The entrance hatch opened with a hiss, and a black-cloaked figure dropped to the ground, her eyes gleaming with the prospect of a kill.

“Inquisitor,” Brenner said quietly, and respectfully. Officially, he knew he outranked her, but his encounters with the Inquisitors left him in no doubt that they could – and would – kill him in less than a second if the mood struck them.

“Wing commander,” she said, her voice sharp, a carefully-curated Coruscanti lilt to her accent. “This is now a matter for the Inquisitorius. You are no longer required.”

“On the contrary, Tenth Sister,” he said, being careful to remain polite. “The fugitive you seek escaped with one who is under my own investigation. It appears we may have to…” He hesitated, trying to find the right words. “…combine our efforts.”

“So be it,” she said, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards with anticipation.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group reels when the Empire offers a bounty for the capture of Will and El, and they return to Mykapo to conduct a second rescue mission, fearing for the life of Will's mother.

Mike was frantic, gasping with terror as he struggled against the safety harness securing him to the seat of his A-wing. Smoke was pouring into the cockpit from the vents, and the rear engines were engulfed with flames. He just had to get out, and he would be alright. Someone would come to find him. El, perhaps, or Will. With one enormous effort, he pushed the cockpit hatch up and rolled out –

– and hit the floor of the cabin with a thud, tangled up in his blanket. He let out a groan and rolled onto his back as the light turned on, staring up at Will’s face, lined with concern. “Ow,” he mumbled, rubbing his head and wincing.

“Are you alright?” Will asked, climbing out of bed and kneeling down next to him. “What happened?”

“Bad dream,” Mike muttered. “Couldn’t… get out…” He was aware that he wasn’t making a lot of sense, but to his relief, Will didn’t question it. Instead, he just slid a hand between the floor and Mike’s back and helped him to sit up. Mike flinched as Will’s hand made contact with his skin, and Will pulled hastily away.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Mike shook his head. “No, your hands are just cold.” A blatant lie, but Mike couldn’t exactly tell him that having Will’s hands on his body was basically all Mike had been thinking about for the last ten days.

“Oh. Sorry.” Mike reached for the chair and pulled on a sweatshirt, suddenly feeling a chill, and hoped Will didn’t think it was because of him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Will sat back and leaned against the side of the bed, and Mike joined him with a muffled grunt of exertion.

“There’s not much to tell, really,” he said. “Shortly after I joined the Alliance, my starfighter was shot down over Er’Kit.” Will’s eyes widened, and Mike shook his head. “It wasn’t bad. I’m alive, so it couldn’t have been. But it left other scars, you could say.”

“That’s awful,” Will said quietly.

“Well, there’s a reason I don’t fly fighters anymore,” Mike said, as a half-hearted attempt at humour. Will didn’t laugh. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. He simply shuffled an inch or two closer and leaned into Mike, resting his head on his shoulder. Mike froze for a second, momentarily stunned, before tilting his head against Will’s. “Thanks,” he said softly.

Although he knew that he meant it, Mike wasn’t totally sure what he was thanking him for. For being supportive of him, he supposed. Or for the fact that despite only having known each other for two weeks, he felt as though Will had become his companion of sorts, in a way the others hadn’t. Not that he didn’t love the others: they were his crew, his team, his family.

But Will was different. Will always listened, and furthermore, he was always interested in what Mike had to say. Will never laughed when Mike felt foolish, or told him that he was being irrational when he got annoyed at Hopper. And on top of all that, Will was so endearing: he hummed quietly to himself as he worked, and liked to sit at the edge of the hangars and sketch the views in his free time. He always got excited about trying new foods, and Mike had noticed that he swayed slightly from side to side when he was nervous.

The fact that Mike also found him very attractive was nobody’s business.

The problem was that a life in the Rebellion was one of incredibly high risk. Every rebel knew that entering a battle, there was always a chance that it would be their last. With this in mind, the Alliance’s senior personnel strongly discouraged forming romantic relationships, as it could make the losses all the harder.

It still happened, of course, because the heart wants what it wants, but even though he was now fairly sure that Will reciprocated his feelings, Mike couldn’t bear the thought of starting a relationship with Will, only to lose him. Or worse, to die himself and leave Will alone.

He shook such thoughts from his mind as he felt Will’s head sliding forwards as he drifted back into sleep, so Mike nudged him gently awake again.

“Come on, buddy,” he said, as Will stirred. “Back to bed.” Will nodded sleepily, but before Mike could help him back into his bunk, there was a loud banging at the cabin door.

“Mike?” The voice was raised and panicked. “Mike, wake up.”

“We’re awake,” he called, and pressed a button to reveal Lucas and Dustin, looking more serious than Mike had ever seen either of them. “What’s going on?”

“Hopper’s called for us,” he said. “The Empire’s released one of its public announcements.”

“And it couldn’t wait two hours?” Mike asked, annoyed.

Lucas shook his head. “Hopper says it’s bad.”

Mike sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Okay, fine. Are El and Max awake?” Lucas shook his head again. “Right. Get them up, and we’ll go together.”

The six crew members of the _Ebony Hawk_ , along with Chester, stood around the holotable in Hopper’s office. No one was talking. Mike caught El’s eye and lifted an eyebrow, and her expression darkened. She had sensed something, Mike was sure of it.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Hopper said gravely. “But I didn’t think you’d want to hear this second-hand over breakfast.” He pressed a button, and a shoulders-up image of Will and El appeared, rotating slowly on the table. Most of them stumbled back a step in shock.

“What is this?” Mike demanded.

“The Empire has placed a bounty on El and Corporal Byers,” Hopper explained.

“How much?” Dustin asked curiously, and Lucas thumped him.

“Fifteen thousand,” Hopper said, pointing to Will, before turning his finger towards El. “Twenty-five thousand.” Max let out a low whistle.

Mike heard Lucas murmur to Will, “Clearly they _really_ want you back.”

“Something tells me I’m not guaranteed a promotion on return.”

“I realise this must be distressing,” Hopper said, more gently than usual. “But the truth is that there’s a bounty on the head of every rebel officer here, so it’s probably not as serious as you’re imagining.”

Mike let out a derisive laugh. “Not being funny, sir, but what’s yours? Seven thousand? Eight?” Hopper said nothing, so Mike went on. “That’s _nothing_ compared to this – every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be after us now!”

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” Hopper said hesitantly. “This information is not public, but our intelligence suggests an Inquisitor is leading the hunt, particularly for El.” Will blanched, his face almost translucent under the blue light of the hologram.

“What’s an Inquisitor?” asked Dustin, perplexed.

“A Jedi hunter,” El said quietly. “Force-users, tortured by the Empire until they embrace the dark side.”

“Exactly,” Hopper said. “These days, their numbers run thin. At least seven have been killed in combat – one of them by one of our own – but the Empire hasn’t bothered to renew the programme, because…” He hesitated.

“Because they’re running out of Jedi to kill,” El finished bitterly, and Hopper nodded.

“Indeed. She may in fact be the last of them.”

“Oh, one is enough,” El said, folding her arms with a derisive laugh. “Trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Hopper said. “Having discussed it with the Council, we’ve agreed it would be best if you all remain on Dantooine for the time being.”

“What good will that do?” Mike asked.

“It’ll give the bounty hunters time to lose interest,” Hopper answered.

“The Inquisitor won’t lose interest,” Will said gloomily.

“Perhaps not,” Hopper conceded, “but can you imagine trying to outrun the Empire _and_ the bounty hunters’ guild?” They nodded, realising with some trepidation that he was right.

“So what now?” Lucas asked.

“Take some time off,” Hopper said drily. “There’s always help needed on the base if you get bored.” With this, he switched off the holotable and walked out.

“Is he serious?” Max asked once he’d gone. “I’m not doing sanitation duty again. We only just got out of that a week ago!”

“He said to take some time for ourselves,” Dustin said with a shrug. “With that in mind, I’m going back to bed.”

“Are you going to?” Mike asked Will, stifling a yawn.

“I’m not sure that I could sleep if I did,” Will said thoughtfully. “I might go get my sketchpad, though.”

“Mind if I sit with you?” Mike said tentatively. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep anymore either.” Will nodded, managing to smile as they headed back to the _Ebony Hawk_.

They sat in comfortable silence at the edge of the hangar. Occasionally they had to hold onto something, to prevent being blown away by the thrust of an arriving starfighter, but besides that, they were more or less left in peace. Mike had brought his pillow from the _Ebony Hawk_ , and was leaning up against the hangar wall, alternating between his browsing his holoscreen and reading a book. Will, on the other hand, was lying on his front near the hangar entrance, drawing something with a charcoal pencil he’d swiped from Hopper’s office.

“What are you reading?” Will asked absently, glancing up at Mike before resuming sketching.

“A history of the Old Republic civil war,” Mike said, showing him the cover. “About three hundred years ago.”

“I’m surprised the Empire still prints books like that.”

“They don’t,” Mike said. “It’s an old copy; one of the senators let me borrow it.”

“You’re on speaking terms with the senators?” Will sounded impressed.

“Sort of,” Mike said modestly. “Just one of them. He came into the food hall for lunch shortly after I joined, and sat next to me. I didn’t realise who he was at first, and now he brings me books from his palace library whenever he visits.”

“Decent guy,” Will mused. They were silent for a moment; Mike sensed that Will had more to say, but decided not to push him. It had, after all, been a rather trying morning.

“What are you drawing?” Mike asked instead, and Will inexplicably became rather flustered.

“Nothing much,” he said, hastily closing the book. “The landscape, mostly.”

“You’re always drawing the landscape,” Mike said with a smile.

Will simply said, “It’s always different.”

“May I see?”

He hesitated only a moment before answering. “Sure.” He flicked through the sketchbook and folded it back on itself, before passing it over for Mike to see. “It’s not great.”

“Are you kidding?” Mike said incredulously. “Will, this is incredible.”

Will looked sceptically at him. “It’s not _that_ good.”

“You have a real talent for this,” Mike said gently. “ Although I don’t suppose the Academy encouraged it.”

“What they didn’t know didn’t hurt them.” Mike turned the book over, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. There was a drawing there, quite unlike the lightly-printed drawing of the horizon on the opposite side. This was a portrait of a woman, with bushy, shoulder-length hair, a defined facial structure, and dark eyes. “Who’s this?” he asked curiously, and Will’s expression turned sad.

“My mother,” he said softly.

“Where is she?”

“Mykapo, I hope.”

“You hope?” Mike asked, not liking the despair in Will’s voice.

“If the Empire’s put a bounty on me, they’ve probably gone after her,” Will said sadly. “Or they soon will.”

“Well, let’s go find her, then,” Mike said, as if it was obvious.

“You heard what Hopper said! We have to stay here.”

“Since when do we listen to Hopper?”

“Well,” Will said, pretending to think about this, “considering it concerns both my life and El’s, I kind of think we have to this time.” He closed the sketchbook and sighed. “I think I just have to try and let this go.” He looked up, and Mike met his gaze with a spark of determination in his eyes. He offered Will his hand and helped him up.

“Come on,” he said.

“Where are we going?”

“Hopper’s office, of course.”

The conversation didn’t exactly start well.

“Are you out of your _mind_ , Wheeler?”

“Sir, hear me out.” Mike’s tone was urgent, but Hopper didn’t seem to be getting the point.

“I will not!” Hopper thundered. “You’re telling me you brought an Imperial trooper here, and now, two weeks later, he wants to go _back_ to Mykapo?” Mike opened his mouth, and promptly shut it again. “Surely even you can agree that’s suspicious.”

“But sir, I _trust_ Will,” Mike said adamantly. “Besides, if he’s been spying on us, why would the Empire put a bounty on his head and tell the galaxy to bring him back dead or alive?”

Hopper calmed down as he considered this surprisingly reasonable argument. “Okay, so he’s not a spy. Fine. You win,” he said begrudgingly. “But my answer is still no – there is still a price on his head, and going back to the very planet he escaped from is beyond insanity.”

“What if he stayed behind?” Mike suggested brightly, and Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose. Mike wondered how long it would be before he filed for vacation.

“And how exactly do you propose to find Corporal Byers’ mother _if he isn’t with you_?” Now it was Mike’s turn to pause, and Hopper, unfortunately, took this opportunity to press his argument. “And even if Byers is loyal to us, there’s no guarantee that his mother will be. No offence, corporal,” he said, addressing Will for the first time, “but you said yourself that you haven’t seen her in, what, seven years? People can change a lot in that time.” Mike was about to protest, but Will held up a hand and stepped forward.

“Commander, I understand your concern.” His voice was as gentle as ever, but held a calm, confident authority. “But I can promise you, beyond any doubt, that my mother is not sympathetic to the Empire.”

“And how do you know that?”

“The Empire’s spent _years_ investigating an underground resistance based in the Mykapo capital, but they never found more than a few individual freedom fighters. Things kept going wrong for them though – communications interruptions, misplaced cargo shipments, trooper squadrons going missing, that sort of thing.” Will smiled. “I know for a fact that my mother is the leader of that group of insurgents. The Empire managed to convince me to believe a lot of things, even that what she was doing was wrong. But they never said anything that convinced me enough to sell her out to them.”

“Great, so we have your word.” Hopper’s sarcasm was thinly veiled. “You realise she might not even be there, corporal? You’re basing this entire operation on _hoping_ that you might succeed.”

Mike chuckled. “That’s a good deal more than what we usually have, sir.” Will stepped forward to Mike’s side, and together they both stared Hopper straight in the eye.

“If I say no, will you go anyway?” he asked. He sounded weary, and Will almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“Without a second thought,” Mike replied cheerfully.

Hopper swore under his breath and waved a hand. “Then you might as well have my permission,” he sighed. “Go. But on your own heads be it.”

Will stepped forward, and held out his hand. “Thank you, commander,” he said, as Hopper shook it, then they turned to go.

“Captain; corporal,” Hopper said as they reached the door. “May the Force be with you.”

It was odd, seeing Mykapo looming in front of him without the familiar eight-pointed grate of a TIE fighter’s cockpit window. It looked bigger somehow, and Will smiled sadly as a peculiar blend of memories flooded back to him – his childhood, his time at the Academy, and a sour taste manifested in his mouth as he remembered SL-322.

But no – that number no longer meant anything to him, nor did it hold power over him like it once did. Now, he was Will Byers – rebel soldier.

“Aim for the capital,” Mike said to El, severing the tracks of Will’s train of thought. She nodded, tapping co-ordinates into a keypad.

“Turn left to point-three,” she said, and Mike nudged the throttle to port, shifting their course marginally.

“Uh, Mike?” Max looked up from her scanner at the side of the cockpit. “We may have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” he said nervously. Max didn’t have a chance to reply before El suddenly swerved, rolling the ship over to avoid a flurry of green plasma.

“TIEs,” Max called over the roar of the engines.

“Shit,” Mike muttered, scrambling for the controls.

“They were waiting for us,” Lucas murmured. “They knew we’d come.”

“El, you’re steering. Your reflexes are better than mine.” Mike flipped multiple switches, reaching above him to transfer control to El. “Lucas, Will, take the guns. Dustin, Chester, check the shield strength. Max, keep an eye on that scanner.”

Lucas and Will ran down the hallway to the ladders that led to the turret guns; one on the top of the ship, and one underneath. Lucas, ahead of Will, went down the ladder, so Will dutifully went up. He didn’t much like manning the guns, because with only a transparisteel dome separating him from the empty void of space, it felt more than a little exposed. Still, orders were orders, so he strapped himself in and donned the headset that allowed him to communicate with Lucas and Mike.

He turned in his chair, scanning above him for targets until he spotted one, swooping overhead. At that moment, El conveniently turned the ship ninety degrees, allowing him to press his thumbs onto the triggers and blow the fighter to pieces. He felt slightly nauseous when he realised that since the fighter had come from the Academy, he probably knew the pilot, but quashed this thought, as it was not helpful. Whoever it was, they had made their choice, and he had made his. He had quickly learnt that when the Empire was involved, it was kill or be killed. There was no third option.

A solid hit from one of the fighters made the ship rock perilously. Will braced himself, but they weren’t sucked into the cold emptiness of space, so clearly the shields had held.

Suddenly El’s voice came through the intercom. “ _We’re entering the atmosphere. It’s about to get loud._ ” Sure enough, his viewing dome burned yellow for a moment, and then cleared, revealing the pale pink Mykapo sky around them. Without the vacuum of space, he could hear Lucas’ gun, plasma shattering another fighter’s titanium hull.

“ _That’s another one,_ ” Lucas called grimly. “ _Still plenty more though. Will, feel like chipping in?_ ”

 _Chance would be nice_ , Will thought, but immediately El turned again, revealing one which had been flying expertly alongside them, hidden from both Lucas and Will’s turrets. Three bursts of glowing red flak and it disintegrated; it occurred to Will that he had never considered how poor the defences of a TIE fighter were, and that a few stray shots would once have been enough to kill him. It made him shiver.

“ _Mike, we may have a problem._ ” Dustin’s voice was level, but uncharacteristically serious. “ _The shields are holding, but they’ve knocked out the shield generator._ ”

“ _Meaning?_ ”

“ _Meaning, we can probably only take one or two more hits like that last one._ ”

“ _Copy that. Chester, ready the escape pods._ ”

“ _We’re not evacuating?_ ” Lucas asked in disbelief, as Will disintegrated another fighter.

“ _We need to have the option!_ ” Mike said firmly. “ _I don’t want to abandon the_ Hawk _either, Lucas, but it’s only a ship at the end of the day._ ”

Will stopped listening as a variation on a TIE Advanced Fighter came into view. “El, we have a problem,” he said, but she was already replying.

“ _I know._ ” He started firing at it, but even with his targeting computer, it dodged and weaved through the blaster-fire with more precision and agility than he knew TIEs were capable of. Suddenly a blue ball of light shot out of its front cannons, and Will’s heart stopped – a heat-seeking proton missile.

Acting purely on instinct, he fired, and the missile exploded on contact with the flak from the gun. He breathed a sigh of relief, but the pieces of the missile shot in all directions, and the ship heaved again at the contact. Somewhere below him, an alarm started to bleep ominously, and he heard Dustin shouting frantic obscenities from the engine room.

“ _We’re going down!_ ” Mike called desperately through the comms. “ _Will, Lucas, get down here, there’s nothing more you can do._ ” Will obeyed, and, observing a worrying crack in the viewing dome, sealed off the turret on his way down.

“Is there a landing strip?” Max was asking as he returned to the cockpit.

“No such luck,” Mike said darkly. “We’re not even near the city. I’m rerouting power to the reverse thrusters. Hopefully it’ll slow our descent a little.”

“Copy that,” said El, toggling switches on her overhead controls. “Extending flaps and drag fields.”

“Dustin, talk to me,” Mike called. “How are we looking?”

“ _I’m actually in the middle of a party down here. Can’t you hear the music?_ ”

“Dustin, now is not the time!” Mike said furiously.

“ _Okay, we’ve got no shields, no power to the guns,_ ” Dustin called through gritted teeth, “ _and we’re currently on track to hit the ground at a seventy-degree angle at practically terminal velocity._ ”

“See, was that so hard?” Mike pressed another button, tilting the bow of the ship upwards. “Now it’s a thirty-degree angle.”

“Yeah, that’ll make all the difference,” Max said, her face even paler than usual.

“Dustin, can you fix the shields?”

“ _Not until we’ve landed. And even then, it’ll take time._ ”

“There we go!” Mike said, his voice laced with false enthusiasm, as El tilted the ship away from another stream of blaster-fire. “Was a little optimism too much to ask for?”

“Ten seconds to landing,” El said, pulling so hard on the throttle that Will thought she might rip it off. The ground loomed closer and closer. “You might want to sit down.” Will and Lucas hastily strapped themselves in, and seconds later, they were thrown forwards against the safety restraints as the _Ebony Hawk_ smashed into the surface, skidding across the soft ground, throwing up dirt and grass as they slid to a gradual stop.

Around them, multiple troop transports touched down considerably more gently. Stormtroopers swarmed out, and several scout troopers joined the throng on speeder bikes. Dustin and Chester joined them in the cockpit, and Mike spoke up, his voice only slightly shaky.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. The engines seem to still be working, so Dustin, Chester, you’re going to repair the shields. Go.” Dustin saluted, and Chester followed him out, unable to resist a whistling remark to the effect that he was relieved to be staying inside. “The rest of us are going to hold the Empire off.”

“Easier said than done,” Lucas said with an anxious laugh.

“Lucas, I want you on the roof. Give ‘em the works. Put simply – fuck them up. Think you can handle it?”

“Handle it?” Lucas gave him a withering look. “That’s every Mandalorian’s dream assignment, Mike.”

Mike cracked a smile, and Lucas donned his helmet and ran out. “Will and I will deal with the troops from the ground. El, you’re going to have to take care of that Inquisitor. Max, keep an eye on the scanner, and make sure the _Hawk_ is ready to fly.”

“On it.”

El looked around at them and nodded grimly. “Let’s get to it.”

As the boarding ramp lowered, the midday sun streamed in through the widening gap. Will found Mike’s hand and linked their little fingers together, just for a moment, before a blaster bolt whizzed past his ear, forcing them both to drop.

El, by contrast, leaped forward into the fray with a gut-wrenching yell, her blaster in one hand and her ignited lightsaber in the other. Her blade slashed and curved, slicing through the troopers’ plastoid armour as though it were fabric, or else sending their blaster bolts flying back towards them with enough force to knock them off their feet. This she accomplished with total control, whilst firing her blaster pistol repeatedly, dispatching troopers from forty paces without even looking at them. Complete, comprehensive Jedi training she may not have had – but what she’d had instead was eighteen years of real-world practice. It was no accident that she’d survived this long. Will watched her fight as he dealt with the oncoming waves of stormtroopers, and despite what he had learnt about the Jedi since Sullust, it still made him shiver. She was terrifying.

Meanwhile, hell rained down from above, as Lucas, hovering overhead and wielding two heavy-hitting blaster pistols, dispatched entire squadrons of troopers with a multitude of explosives.

The TIE Advanced folded in its wings and touched down roughly, its ruthless pilot springing out of the cockpit and igniting her lightsaber in mid-air. El hastily turned the hilt of her own saber in her hand until it pointed backwards, and Will watched with admiration as she reversed gracefully, plunging the cerulean blade into the chest of the riot trooper approaching her from behind.

With the trooper dealt with, she flicked a switch on the hilt, and to Will’s astonishment, a second blade emerged from the other end of the hilt, perfectly meeting the beam of scarlet energy that came crashing down as the Tenth Sister dropped to the ground in front of her. With a growl of exertion, she pushed her attacker back, allowing her to spin to her feet and adjust her grip on the saber, spinning it warningly as she passed it to her more dominant hand, having shoved her blaster back into its holster.

The Inquisitor barked out a laugh. “Impressive,” she sneered. “But two can play at that game.” El’s reply wasn’t loud enough for Will to hear, but with a snarl, the Tenth Sister ignited her own second blade, clicking her standard-issue saber into position. It began to turn on its hilt, spinning faster and faster, until all that Will could see was a wall of vermillion energy, advancing slowly but deliberately on El.

El bounced on the balls of her feet, retreating backwards, cutting down stormtroopers foolish enough to approach her, before plunging her saber forward and catching the whirling blades. Their sabers twirled and slashed, dancing a perfectly-balanced duet and filling the air with a faint humming and clashes of energy.

Another riot trooper advanced on Will, dodging his shots as he bared his electrified baton, preparing to strike him. Will simply stepped back onto the ramp to avoid the attack, and as if it were not his own idea, he put his blaster back onto his belt and retreated back into the hold.

“Where are you going?” Mike yelled, but Will didn’t answer. As he ran, he reached up to the leather handles they used for support whilst in transit and jumped. He swung forwards, turned himself around in the air and as he swung back again, he kicked the riot trooper firmly in the head, hard enough to knock the baton out of his hands and throw him back out of the hold. Will rolled as he landed and smiled at his success, before retrieving his blaster and planting a bolt squarely in the centre of his breastplate.

Suddenly he heard Max’s voice over his commlink. “ _This is Jet Five. Incoming TIEs._ ” Will looked up and saw that she was right – there were dozens of Imperial fighters descending on the scene.

“Jet Three,” Will called, “can you do anything?”

“ _I’ve got just the thing, Jet Six_.” Will glanced up to see him tip his helmet forward, and the single-use rocket shot from the top of his jetpack and swerved towards one of the fighters. It smashed perfectly into the side of the wing, and the fighter started to spin.

“Great, that’s one down,” Mike said sarcastically.

“ _Hey, I just used my only rocket, and they’re not cheap,_ ” Lucas snapped back. “ _You want to try and do better?_ ”

Will saw the pilot hastily eject as the craft hit the ground and burst into flames. He watched the pilot’s trajectory, and realised that whoever it was, they would land behind them. They couldn’t risk being flanked, even by one trooper, so he turned tail and ran towards the pilot, who had just dropped into the dirt-trail left by the _Ebony Hawk_ upon its crash-landing. When he reached them, he held out his blaster, and the pilot did much the same.

“One wrong move,” he said firmly, “and I’ll kill you.”

Oddly, the pilot didn’t fire. Instead, they spoke. “Will? Is that you?”

Will blinked in surprise. He knew that voice – it belonged to one of his flight company. “Jara?”

"It is you!" she said accusingly, before adding, “Why did you leave?” If Will didn’t know better, he’d have said she sounded sad. He surreptitiously switched his blaster’s function.

“Because the Empire lied to us, Jara,” he said, his voice pleading with her to understand. “They might say they strive for peace, but they’re willing to do anything – steal, lie, kill – to get it!”

“That’s what they told us of the Rebellion,” she said, but Will saw the barrel of her blaster lower fractionally.

“Come with us,” he said. “It’s not like that. You see more clearly once you’re out, I promise.” For one, shining moment, he thought he had succeeded, but then her shoulders stiffened, and SL-167 raised her blaster again.

“No. You’re a traitor to the Empire and a liar.” With these words, she fired, and Will accepted the end.

* * *

Mike was crouched behind a boulder, for his blasters were overheating, when he realised he hadn’t seen Will for a while. He blew on them to cool them down faster, then re-emerged, blasting troopers left and right. He could see El, still locked in a furious duel with the Inquisitor. He could see Lucas up in the sky, swerving left and right to stay between the troops and the sun.

He rounded the _Ebony Hawk_ , and finally spotted Will, engaged in some kind of standoff with a fighter pilot. He could hear strains of conversation, and then the pilot fired. To Mike’s astonishment, the bolt curved and hit the side of the _Hawk_. As it passed Will, though, it grazed him, and he let out a shout of pain and stumbled back.

“ _No!_ ” Mike yelled, but Will had already fired his own blaster. A ring of blue light enveloped the pilot and she slumped to the ground, stunned. “Will!” Mike gasped as he ran alongside him. “Will! Are you okay?”

“I’m alright.” Will’s hand was pressed to his face, and Mike winced as he pulled it away. His cheek was badly burned, and blood stained Will’s hand.

Mike was about to speak again when both their commlinks beeped, and Dustin’s voice reverberated through the speaker grilles. “ _This is Jet Four, the shields are back online._ ”

“ _Retreat!_ ” El called frantically. Back at the battlefield, Mike saw the Tenth Sister go flying backwards, and El’s dual blue blades shrank away to nothingness.

“Come on,” he said to Will, and they started back. Will seemed to be in shock from the hit, and he was losing blood worryingly fast. He stumbled as they ran, and Mike had to hang back to catch him.

Finally they approached the boarding ramp, but to Mike’s horror, it was already shut, and the _Ebony Hawk_ was lifting into the sky.

“No, no, no, no!” he shouted, but he had his blaster in one hand, and was supporting Will with the other, so he couldn’t call them back. He ducked as a blaster bolt singed his hair, and with a flash of inspiration, doggedly started leading Will towards the scout troopers’ speeder bikes.

He helped Will onto the nearest one, who had just enough energy to sit upright. Blasting a trooper or two who came too close, he shrugged off his backpack and strapped it to the side of the bike, before climbing on. He kicked it into gear and quickly fired its light blaster cannons, wrecking the engines of the other bikes. It also had the advantage of taking out a few troopers.

“Just hold onto me, okay?” he said, and waited for Will to wrap his arms around him, before putting his foot down and allowing the bike to carry them both out of danger. The cacophony of blaster-fire died down, and Mike breathed a sigh of relief. They were far from being out of the woods – but they were alive. That was a start.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stranded and alone, Will and Mike resume the search for Will's mother, but the Empire isn't far behind...

If only temporary, the quiet was a welcome reprieve. As he navigated deftly through a rocky canyon, Mike could hear only the hum of the speeder bike’s engines, and the sound of Will breathing, close to his left ear. His arms wrapped tightly around Mike’s waist, Will had buried his face into Mike’s shoulder, and Mike could feel that Will’s breaths were shaky and uneven. He suspected that Will was in shock, and, most likely, quite a lot of pain.

Upon exiting the canyon, he steered them the Imperial highway leading to the capital, accelerating to lower their chances of being observed. Two apparent civilians on an Imperial-grade speeder bike would raise unwanted questions.

As they reached the city, he could feel Will’s grip on him loosening, so he slowed down and pulled into a back alley. He climbed off the bike, then helped Will down, lowering him onto the ground. He looked utterly exhausted, and Mike’s heart hurt for him.

“Come on,” he said gently, reaching into his bag and pulling out a med-pack. He rummaged around inside for a moment, before pulling something out and passing it to Will.

“What’s this?” he mumbled.

“Bacta patch,” Mike said. “Hold it to your face, I’ll find some tape.” He dug a little further, then retrieved the tape, instructing Will to keep still while he secured the patch to his face. “There,” he said. “That should heal over in about an hour, although it may still scar.” Will winced as the bacta set in, and Mike smiled at him. His heart was hammering a furious rhythm, and he knew, somehow, that it was time. “Hey, Will?”  
“Yeah?” His face half-concealed by the healing patch, another might have been tempted to laugh at his appearance, but Mike did not.

“I… I need to tell you something,” Mike said, very aware of the way his breaths were shaking. Will didn’t reply, but looked earnestly at him, his pretty hazel eyes searching him. Mike exhaled deeply, and spoke. “I really care about you, Will.” Will’s eyes widened slightly, and Mike kept going. “When we first came to Mykapo to rescue you, I thought something about the mission felt significant. I don’t know if it was just a feeling, or… the Force, or…” He laughed nervously. “Maybe I’m crazy, but I feel like we’re… connected, in some way. I’ve never felt about anyone, the way I feel about you.”

Silence fell for a moment, and then Will smiled. He glanced down, and opened his hand. Hardly daring to believe it, Mike took it. “I don’t think you’re crazy.” Still, they had held hands before, so he was still bracing himself for Will to let him down gently when Will leaned forward and kissed him softly on the cheek. “I feel it too.” Mike let out another shaky laugh, and pulled Will into a tight hug, burying his face into his neck, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.

The moment was broken by the screeching roar of a company of TIE fighters swooping over the city, and they both instinctively ducked, even though it was implausible that the starfighters had detected them there.

“We’d better get moving,” Mike said grimly.

“Have you tried to contact the _Hawk_?” Will asked, and Mike shook his head.

“Not yet – I’ll try now.” He lifted his wrist-comm to his lips and spoke. “This is Jet One, calling the _Ebony Hawk_. Where the _hell_ are you?” There was radio silence for a moment, before a frequency crackled. “Repeat.”

“ _Jet One, we are so sorry_.” Even through the speaker grille, the contrition in El’s voice was evident. “ _We thought you were already onboard._ ”

“ _What’s your position, Jet One?_ ” Dustin called. “ _Is Jet Six with you?_ ”

“Affirmative,” Mike said, scanning around the alley. “Our exact position is unclear, but we’re somewhere in the capital. We’re beginning our search for the original target.”

“ _Copy that. We’ll be there as soon as we can._ ” The frequency faded, and Mike switched off the communicator.

“Come on, you. Let’s go find your mom.” Mike offered Will his hand to help him up, but on this occasion, he didn’t let go.

Will led Mike through the familiar streets, the route coming back to him as they walked. It was odd – the city had changed a lot in the last seven years, but he was starting to recognise landmarks: old buildings, individual streets in which he and his brother had played as children. Will shook off this particular line of thought; memories of Jonathan were too painful.

It was not a large city, and before too long, they ground to a halt in front of a massive bronzium statue of an ageing man in the centre of a market. The corners of Will’s mouth twisted downwards in revulsion, and Mike’s jaw dropped. The expertly-crafted expression on the man’s face radiated kindness, his arms extended in a welcoming, embracing gesture. A shining plaque was fixed to the podium on which the statue stood. Will read the inscription with disgust.

**_OUR LORD AND EMPEROR, PALPATINE – SAVIOUR OF THE EMPIRE_ **

“ _This_ is how the galaxy sees him?” Mike hissed in disbelief.

“It’s how the Empire wants us to see him,” Will said coldly. “It’s what they taught us to think of him as cadets – the wise old politician who saw off the threat of the Separatists.”

“And the Jedi.”

“Yeah,” Will said, turning away. “Come on. We shouldn’t be seen staring at it for too long. It looks suspicious, whichever side you’re on.”

“It’s at times like these I wish El would let me borrow her lightsaber,” Mike said, letting out a light laugh, in a vain attempt to diffuse the tension. Will simply slipped his hand into Mike’s and held onto him tightly.

“This way.” They walked to a paint-chipped door, and Will knocked nervously. It was set into a wall with a large shuttered window, and shelves lined the space under the window. The shelves were empty, and the shutters were closed. Night was falling, but Will suspected that was not the reason. The door opened just a crack; silhouetted by the gas lamp inside, he saw the glint of an eye in the gap, before the door was thrown wide and they were ushered in.

He turned to look at their host, before closing the gap between them and wrapping his arms tightly around her. “Mom,” he breathed, relief washing over him.

“Will?” Joyce murmured, taking hold of his arms and looking him up and down. “I can’t believe it – it’s really you! What are you doing here?”

“Mom, is there anyone else here?” Will asked urgently, indicating at her to just nod or shake her head. She shook her head, and only then seemed to notice the Rebel insignia stitched onto his flight vest.

“You’re with the Rebellion now?” she asked in disbelief. “What about the Academy?”

“I… had a realisation, shall we say,” he said, looking away uncomfortably. “And they’ve put a bounty on my head.”

“We’ve come to get you out of here,” Mike chipped in, and Joyce looked at him as though noticing him for the first time.

“Who are you?” she asked suspiciously.

“He’s my – uh, Mike,” Will finished, a little lamely.

“Captain Mike Wheeler,” he said, offering his hand to shake. “I was part of the team who extracted Will.” She took his hand, but looked sternly at Will.

“If you got away from Mykapo, why are you _back_?”

“Because if they’re coming for me, they’ll probably come for you soon enough!” Will said desperately. “I'll explain more later, we don't have a lot of time. There's a ship inbound to rescue us, so go, get your things.” She hugged him again, kissing his cheek and smiling sadly at him, before exiting into the back room.

“Jet Two, I’m sending you our co-ordinates,” Mike was saying into his wrist-comm.

“ _Have you located the target?_ ”

“Affirmative.”

“ _Good. Get to the nearest place where we can land._ ”

Will chimed in, initiating his own wrist-comm. “There’s a market square which is pretty empty. We’ll meet you there.”

“ _Copy that, Jet Six._ ”

“Oh, and there’s a pretty hideous statue that could do with coming down if you can spare the firepower,” Mike said, with a grin in Will’s direction. He managed a smile back, before his mother hurried back in, a leather satchel over her shoulder and a concerned expression on her face.

“There’s a ship coming into land outside,” she said anxiously, and Will let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s the _Ebony Hawk_. That’s our ride.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Unless this _Ebony Hawk_ comprises a half-dozen Imperial gunships, I doubt it.”

It might have been an understatement to say that Will was getting heartily sick of the Empire. Wherever he went, whenever he thought they might have achieved a tiny amount of uncomplicated success – there the Empire always was, ready to ruin his day. Today, apparently, would be no different.

The three of them peered through the cracks between the shutter panels, watching with increasing dread as multiple ships landed, their searchlights sweeping the market square, making them squint as they shone on Joyce’s shop. Although they knew they could not currently be seen, they instinctively dropped, slumping as low as they could on the floor below the window.

“Will,” Joyce said gently, “if we don’t make it out of this… I want you to know that I’m so proud of you for standing up and saying no.” He nodded gratefully, and hugged her again, before turning to Mike.

“As for you,” he said, his voice more than a little unstable, “in case we don’t get out of this, there’s something I have to do.” Mike started to say something, but Will cut him off. “And goodness knows I didn’t want this to happen for the first time in front of my mother, but screw it.”

Mike tried to speak again, but Will grabbed him by the front of his flight jacket, pulled him close and pressed his lips against Mike’s, closing his eyes and brushing Mike’s hair off his forehead as he cradled his head in his hands, possibly for the last time.

And for the briefest moment, the world stood still. Here was his uncomplicated success - everything was just as it should be.

He faintly heard Mike inhale sharply, before Mike pushed eagerly back against him, before breaking slowly apart. Mike’s freckled face broke out into a smile, which Will couldn’t help mirroring.

“Rebels!” A voice echoed across the market square. “We know you are here, and we have you surrounded.”

“That’s Brenner,” Will hissed, and Mike and Joyce looked blankly at him. “The wing commander overseeing my Imperial training,” Will explained. “Clearly he wants me back.” He gave a wry chuckle. “Under any other circumstances, I’d be flattered.”

“Surrender now,” Brenner called, “or we will bombard this entire city.” Will peered out through the slats in the shutter again, and saw a star destroyer looming over the city a few miles up.

“Okay, he’s not kidding,” Will said slowly. “Mom, I’m sorry we’ve dragged you into this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said with a sad smile. “I was already in this. And anyway, it was worth it to see you again.” Will slid his hand into Mike’s and squeezed it bravely before letting go.

“Shall we?”

Mike nodded. Will pulled open the door, and stepped out into the street. He saw Brenner, standing next to the statue, and an entire battalion of stormtroopers lined up across the square. A glimmer of scarlet light caught his eye, and he realised with alarm that the Tenth Sister had caught up with them as well.

“Over here!” Will said loudly, and Brenner turned, a gleeful smile on his face. The Tenth Sister, too, turned, and let out an excited snarl.

“Well, well,” he sneered, folding his hands behind his back and walking serenely towards them. “Ess-Ell-three-two-two. How… nice… to see you again.”

Mike immediately drew his pistols, but found them yanked out of his hand. Across the square, the Tenth Sister caught them and with one clean stroke of her lightsaber, sliced them in half. Mike whimpered, both out of fear and loss, for Will knew how fond he was of those blasters. Mike had told him that he had stolen them when he first left home, and that he’d kept them in pristine condition since.

“Your weapon, too, please,” Brenner said with a satisfied smile. His face twisted in defiant anger, Will pulled it from its holster and threw it on the ground in front of Brenner.

“You can kill us,” Will spat, “but you can’t stop the Rebellion.”

Brenner let out a low chuckle. “Fool,” he said softly. “Of course we can - you rebels are _so_ predictable. After all, the only reason we came here is because we knew you would come back for your mother.”

“You have no capacity for compassion.”

“And you’re too sentimental,” Brenner said, his voice laced with venom. “It will be the death of you.”

Will let out an incredulous. “ _I’m_ sentimental? What about the dictatorship so _devoted_ to its leader that it has to put _statues_ in every city centre to remind people what he looks like?”

“Silence!” Brenner bellowed, drawing his own blaster. “On your knees.”

“No,” Will said, lifting his chin so he could look down his nose at Brenner. The image of Captain Ranndall, the fallen pilot Will had been forced to kill, flashed into Will’s mind’s eye, and Will figured it was time for some justice. He tilted his head back slightly, and spat in Brenner’s face. Outraged, Brenner fired, and the bolt, again, whizzed past Will’s ear. Will assumed it was a warning shot, until Brenner looked at his RK-3 blaster in confusion – meaning that Brenner hadn’t missed on purpose. Which probably meant he wouldn’t have missed at all.

He was saved any further reflection on this confusing turn of events by a familiar rumble of engines.

“Time’s up, wing commander,” he said with a smirk, as the whistle of incoming rockets grew louder. With an explosion powerful enough to blast Will, Mike and Joyce backwards, the rocket collided with the base of the Emperor’s statue, and it toppled, crushing several stormtroopers beneath it.

“Raise gunships!” Brenner shouted, but it was too late.

The _Ebony Hawk_ swooped overhead, and with a few well-placed shots, its turret guns ripped through the gunships’ cheap hulls, and the market square was illuminated by the subsequent eruption of their fuel cells. Mike let out a whoop of delight at the scene, as the stormtroopers turned their blasters to the sky, barely scratching the _Ebony Hawk_ ’s sturdily-repaired shields, as its returning fire tore through the waves of Imperial troops. It dropped skilfully to the ground, the boarding ramp lowering as it went.

Lucas flew out, sending troopers flying as he charged them, his own twin blasters shredding their armour. Max appeared next, weaving through the incessant blaster-fire, firing shot after shot of her own, and beating to the ground any trooper that got too close with her truncheon.

El, with just one sapphire blade ignited, cut through every stormtrooper within reach, using her other hand to manipulate the blaster bolts around her through the Force, redirecting their trajectories and sending them flying into other stormtroopers’ armour.

As he dodged another blaster bolt, Will suddenly remembered that he had thrown away his own blaster, and scrambled to the ground to find it.

“What about me?” Mike asked desperately, and Will thought fast.

“Lucas!” he yelled, and waved his blaster as he looked down. Lucas might have had his helmet on, but Will just knew he was rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he tossed down one of his pistols, and Mike caught it.

“Mom, get to cover!” Will called, and she let out a derisive laugh, twisting her hair up into a makeshift knot behind her head.

“Not likely,” she said grimly. She reached into her satchel and brought out a compact blaster rifle, releasing a shot into the plastoid helmet of an approaching trooper.

Will barely had time to register his surprise at this development before blue blaster bolts started raining down from the rooftops, pelting the stormtroopers with cerulean energy. Everyone looked up in confusion, and Mike shouted, “The Alliance?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Will called back, as Joyce put two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle. The troops all turned their heads to Joyce, who pointed to the _Ebony Hawk_. Suddenly Will connected the dots: they had to be the members of the underground resistance his mother had been running, and he looked at her in wonder.

“Yeah, I got friends too,” she shrugged, confirming his theory. “Are we escaping or not?”

“Get to the _Hawk_!” Mike yelled, and they started to run. Max jumped aboard, and Joyce’s guerrilla fighters climbed down from their elevated positions so they could get onboard as well. Lucas swooped back in, and El stood by the ramp, deflecting blaster bolts back at the stormtroopers to cover those who were boarding.

Brenner marched furiously towards the ship, clearly intent on taking out at least one of them before they inevitably escaped. As he ran, Will watched as Brenner pulled out his blaster and released a shot in El’s direction, who deflected it back into his shoulder – a clear warning shot. He let out a grunt of pain, but kept walking. El narrowed her eyes, and Will could tell what she was thinking: _so be it._

Mike, Will, and Joyce had almost made it – but they had reckoned without the Tenth Sister. Without warning, she dropped down in front of them and with a grunt of effort, pushed them backwards through the Force, knocking them off their feet.

Brenner fired again, and Will watched as it flew back into his other shoulder, which swung back involuntarily at the impact. His face writhing with pain, he walked doggedly on.

Will couldn’t quite explain what happened next – it was as though it all happened in a single moment. As though he wasn’t doing anything at all, but rather something was guiding him, controlling him, almost. In one instant, he was lying on the ground, looking at the Tenth Sister glaring at them from fifty yards away.

In the next, she was hurling her lightsaber, sending it flying towards them, spinning several times a second – a humming blur of carmine-coloured light, which would inevitably carve them to pieces. But as though he hadn’t thought of it himself, Will stood up, positioning himself in front of the whirling propeller of death, not willing to let Mike and his mother die.

Meanwhile, Brenner fired one shot at point-blank range, and a blue beam of energy scorched through his heart, stopping it forever. All his achievements; his awards and medals; his status and respect – they burned away with his life force, as his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the ground.

Without him willing it, Will’s hand reached out, and caught the Inquisitor’s lightsaber mid-spin, the twin red blades extending from the durite cylinder in his hand in perfect balance. The Tenth Sister’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

“Huh,” said Will, somehow not particularly fazed, as though he had done this a hundred times. He bared the saber in the Inquisitor’s direction, who turned to find El advancing on her from the other side. Wisely, she turned tail and fled. “No!” Will cried as she retreated, but Mike grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the ship.

“Come on!” Mike called, and Will hastily pressed the switches on the side of the hilt. The scarlet blades shrank away to nothingness as he stumbled into a desperate run for the boarding ramp.

“Is that everyone?” El shouted as they arrived. They scanned the scene and saw only stormtroopers, so Mike slammed his hand on the ramp controls, while Will called into his wrist-comm.

“Jet Four, get us out of here!” Almost immediately, the _Ebony Hawk_ lifted into the sky.

“ _Jet Six, who the hell are all these people?_ ” Dustin’s voice was tinged with a blend of bemusement and mild irritation, and Will chuckled.

“Hold on, we’ll come and explain.” Will glanced at Mike, who slid a hand around Will’s waist and pulled him a little closer. “In fact,” Will grinned, “we’ve got quite a lot to tell you about.”

* * *

Chaos reigned in the common areas of the _Ebony Hawk_ , as the crew tried to accommodate their new passengers. Having returned to the base on Dantooine, they had not been surprised to find that there was nowhere near enough beds for thirty new residents, so El and Dustin were trying to organise sleeping mats and blankets for Joyce’s fighters, all sleeping in the hold.

Joyce herself sat in the cockpit, gazing lovingly into the face of her son. Honestly, Will found it a little overwhelming. Of course he had missed her, but something in the air was out of balance; he suspected she had missed him far more. This sounded bad in his head, but the truth was that the Empire had taught him not to need anyone. He had been rapidly unlearning this in his short time with the _Ebony Hawk_ crew, but it was still a major adjustment.

“I think you have some explaining to do,” she said quietly, so he did.

He told her everything: his training; his skills as a pilot; the battles he’d fought; the capture of the rebel captain; his distress call; the extraction; the weapons factory; everything he’d learnt – and unlearnt – about the Jedi; the bounty on their heads; and the mission to rescue her from Mykapo. He told her – a little awkwardly – about Mike, and his encounter with Jara, and his narrow brush with death.

In return, Joyce told him about her life on Mykapo, and how she’d come to lead such a large group of rebels. She told him about some of the operations they had run, proudly recounting an occasion during which they had dispatched an entire company of stormtroopers one by one, without any weapons. Eventually, one of the team poked her head into the cockpit and asked to speak with her, so Joyce kissed the top of his head and excused herself.

Grateful for an excuse to hide from the pandemonium, Will slipped into their cabin and sealed the door shut. He let out a sigh as he clambered up to join Mike in the top bunk, and smiled against Mike’s lips as they found his own.

He was relieved to be away from the crowded hallways. All the same, though, when he heard a loud clang from outside the cabin, followed by Chester chuntering crossly, Will couldn’t help giggling.

“What?” Mike asked, shifting a little closer on the bed and pressing a quick peck against his lips.

“Oh… nothing,” Will murmured. He couldn’t be bothered to explain when there was an activity he’d much rather be doing. He closed his eyes again, cradling Mike’s jaw in his hands, and leaned into his touch, tasting cherries on Mike’s lips and teeth as they worked into a rhythm.

Before an hour or so ago, Will had never kissed anyone in his life. He didn’t know if Mike had – they hadn’t yet had that particular conversation – but he knew enough to know already that it was one of Mike’s particular talents. He couldn’t quite explain it, but when he kissed Mike, he felt as though he was coming home. As if this was something he was always meant to do – something he’d never realised he missed until this moment.

He let out a soft sigh, and presently felt Mike’s hand against his cheek. Suddenly he flinched, gasping with a sting of pain as Mike brushed against his wound.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Mike said, bolting backwards with alarm. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, touching it gingerly. “It’s just a little sore.” He had taken off the bacta patch shortly after boarding the ship, as he felt it had done its work. It was still tender, though, and Mike was right, it was definitely going to scar.

The moment broken, Will lay down on the bed, shuffling to his left an inch or two so he could snuggle up against Mike. He was feeling cold again, and Mike’s warmth acted as a very convenient heater. Mike slid an arm around him and pressed a soft kiss to Will’s uninjured cheek.

“What a day,” Mike mused, allowing himself a yawn, and Will nodded. “Don’t you want to go and spend time with your mom?”

“I did, and I will again later,” he said. “But honestly, I can’t deal with all those people right now.”

“I get that.” They were silent for a while, and Will sensed Mike wanted to say something. “Hey, about what – ” Mike was cut off by a polite knock on the cabin door, and he sighed. “Just for once, it would nice to have an hour entirely to ourselves,” he grumbled, as Will slid off the bed and dropped to the floor.

“Come in,” Will called, and El appeared as the door slid open.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked quietly. Then, with a meaningful glance at Mike, she added, “In private?”

“Sure,” Will said. “I’ll see you later,” he added, turning to Mike, who nodded as he climbed down.

“See you later.”

El led him down the boarding ramp and towards the hangar opening, and Will’s eyes lit up in realisation.

“I know where we’re going,” he said, and El offered him one of her rare smiles.

“Do you?”

“There’s a Jedi temple or something at the bottom of the mountain, isn’t there?”

“Not quite,” she said. “But that’s a good enough guess. Come on.”

She showed him where to drop, and Will followed her down the rocky path, shivering occasionally as the cool night breeze rustled his flight jacket. El, however, seemed totally composed, and entirely unbothered by the chill. They didn’t talk much, as Will found that he didn’t really know what to say. El still hadn’t told him exactly where they were going, but he had assumed by now that she wanted to show him, rather than trying to explain.

Finally, El stopped in front of a jagged rock face. “We’re here.”

Will shot her a bemused glance. “Are we? It looks like just another part of the mountain to me.”

She looked at him, her eyes seeming to bore through him. “Look again.”

He obeyed, and perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the rocks’ shadows in the moonlight seemed to form an archway. As Will kept looking, he saw to his astonishment that there was, in fact, an opening. He reached out to touch it, and the burnt-orange rocks which had been there had disappeared to form an entrance into the mountain.

“But…” Will was suddenly at a loss for words. “But _how_?”

“Centuries ago, the rulers of many planets were proficient Force-wielders,” El said, beckoning him inside. “Dathomir. Yavin. Bardotta. Zeffo. And, conveniently for us, Dantooine.”

“Like Jedi?”

“Sort of, except they didn’t all limit themselves to the practice of the light. They often took a more neutral view of the Force.” As the cave became darker, El ignited one of her blades, casting blue light into the passageway and illuminating the stone walls on either side of them. “But like Jedi, they constructed temples across its surface to practise their craft and develop their knowledge of the Force.” In the new light, Will looked around as they walked slowly down the passage. There were ancient paintings and writings inscribed on the walls, in languages he couldn’t read.

“How is it so well-preserved if it’s so old?” he asked, and sadness tinged El’s voice.

“The light has an ironic way of damaging that which it touches,” she said. “But this deep into the cave, the light almost never reaches it.”

“But what about that?” Will said, pointing to the lightsaber. “Why doesn’t that affect it?”

“Because I never normally use it.” As if to prove her point, she deactivated it. Will stopped walking, unable to see in the pitch blackness, but her voice moved further away. “The eyes deceive. Only the Force grants true sight.” Instinctively, Will suddenly ducked down, and he felt something brush his hair. A moment later, he heard a stone clatter on the rocky ground some distance behind him.

“Wait… what?” he said slowly, as El ignited her lightsaber again, revealing herself a few feet away. “What just happened?”

“Will, I believe before too long you will have no need for my lightsaber when we walk down here.”

He walked up to her, bewildered and afraid. “What do you mean?”

“Come with me,” she said, and he followed her, although he wasn’t sure why.

Presently the narrow passageway opened out into a massive chamber, as big as an Imperial hangar. Massive thrones lined its perimeter, and an unfamiliar insignia had been carved into the floor in the centre of the room. El led him towards it, and gestured for him to sit on it. He hesitated, but obeyed. She sat down opposite him, wrapping her arms around her crossed legs.

“Will, do you know what the Force is?”

“Sure,” he said warily. “It’s what Jedi have that gives them their power.”

“Not really.” She looked down and smiled. “Though in fairness, that is the understanding of much of the galaxy.” A small stone in front of her lifted into the air and started to circle around them. “The Force affects every living thing. It penetrates, and resonates, and brings life. This is the way of the light.” The stone suddenly split in two and dropped to the ground. “It can also be manipulated into taking life away. This is the way of the dark.”

Will nodded, unsure where she was going with this.

“Although everyone is affected by the Force, most go about their daily lives unaware of it. Some individuals, however, are more sensitive to it. They are able to understand its whispers, and with time and training, to harness the power it grants.”

“People like you?” he asked.

“People like me, yes. But also, I believe,” she went on, looking carefully at him. “People like you.” A heavy silence followed this peculiar pronouncement.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, a nervous giggle escaping out of the corners of his mouth.

“I’m completely serious,” she said, unclasping her hands. She reached for her lightsaber and placed it on the ground between them.

“How is that possible?”

“I have three pieces of evidence which support my theory,” she said. “Each more conclusive than the last. Would you like to hear them?” Will nodded. “The first happened during your confrontation with the TIE pilot.” Will instinctively touched the wound on his face. “Exactly. The blaster bolt turned in mid-air, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Will thickly. “But that couldn’t have been me.”

“No blaster malfunction can cause that, Will,” El said kindly. “And Mike told me it happened a second time, with Brenner?” Will nodded again, and she stood up. “You still don’t believe me, do you?”

“It just doesn’t seem very likely,” he admitted.

“Well, the second time was during your confrontation with the Inquisitor,” El went on. “You _caught_ her lightsaber _while it was spinning_ , Will. Surely you can’t think that was a fluke?”

“I think it must have been,” he said desperately. “I mean, I’m not special, or – ”

“Neither am I.” Her voice was gentle, but firm. “The third time was just now, in the passage.” Will wrinkled his nose, puzzled. “I threw a rock at you, and you ducked, even though you couldn’t see anything.”

“That was _you_?”

“I needed a final test for my theory,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. “Will, only a powerful Force-sensitive could have such fast reflexes in such a sensory-deprived environment.” He stood up, overwhelmed and afraid.

“What do I do?” he whispered. El stood up with him, and held his hands to calm him.

“Learn,” she said softly. “Learn to overcome your fear, and control the power you wield. If you would like me to, I will teach you as best I can.” He stared at her, still speechless. “The path of a Jedi is not an easy one, especially these days, when we are outlawed and hunted. But if you can learn to use the power you hold for good, then everyone around you will benefit from it.”

He nodded numbly. “I’ll do it.”

She smiled, a real, genuine smile at his words. “We can start whenever you’re ready.” She touched his arm gently. “And since we’re going back now, I’m sure Mike would like to know,” she added, a mischievous glint in her eye.

* * *

Far across the galaxy, in a distant sector of the Outer Rim, the Tenth Sister’s TIE Advanced fighter entered the atmosphere. She guided her fighter expertly through the clouds of smoke and volcanic ash, pulling back on the throttle as she landed. Lava tumbled down into the river below from the base of the massive castle situated at the top of the cliff, looming high over the ever-burning landscape.

Red-robed guards, with their powerful Force pikes crossed over the main doors, stepped back to grant her entrance. The Tenth Sister marched along the matte black tiles, dropping to one knee on the large Imperial insignia in the centre of the room.

A menacing shadow fell over her, and she dared not look up at the figure to whom she reported. For this was barely a man. Perhaps he had once been; she could not say. But his slow, mechanical breathing and heavy footfalls indicated that there was more metal than flesh which comprised his body.

He was a fearful figure, and oh yes, she feared him. In her early days with the Inquisitorius, rumours swirled that he had killed Inquisitors who failed their missions, and she could well believe it. Whether this was actually true or not, she knew this was a man who, for all her power, could end her life in seconds if he decided that she served no further purpose, and she dared not cross him.

“Lord Vader,” she said, suitably respectfully.

“Inquisitor,” he said, his normally-booming voice quiet and dangerous. “I am informed that you had the Jedi within your grasp twice, and failed to apprehend her. I confess I am disappointed.”

“I assure you, my lord, it was a tactical manoeuvre,” she said, rising to her feet as he turned away from her. “She cannot escape us for long.”

“I hope you have more to tell me than this, or this meeting may be… cut short.” He faced her once again, anger visible through the red-tinted lenses of his mask, and one of his gloved hands rested gently on his lightsaber.

“Oh, I do, Lord Vader.” A malicious smile crept onto her face. “I had a surprising encounter on Mykapo with a defected cadet. It would seem that whilst assigned with hunting one Jedi, I have discovered another…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a sequel coming! The next work in the series will be entitled 'As the Shadow Falls', so if you've enjoyed this story I hope you'll check it out once it's up!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, if so, please do leave a comment with your thoughts, or hit me up on Tumblr at @tea-for-one-please!
> 
> Disclaimer: any similarities to content from the Star Wars: Legends series is entirely coincidental, as I know nothing about it..!


End file.
